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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315044">Alone with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelacecarlile/pseuds/lovelacecarlile'>lovelacecarlile</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AHS Coven, Guy on Guy, M/M, New Orleans, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Sibling Incest, Utah - Freeform, Wendigo, Wincest - Freeform, bxb - Freeform, m/m - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:08:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,793</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26315044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelacecarlile/pseuds/lovelacecarlile</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a routine case turns the Winchesters on their Heads, it leaves them searching for more than a thing that lurks in the shadows. With surmounting pressure and constant set backs, will Sam and Dean come out on the other side unscathed? Fall into this page turning thriller to see if the brothers can keep their feet on solid ground or fall into a territory completely unknown</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In the Shade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I would literally mouth fuck a vampire for more of this pie."</p><p>Dean said blissfully.</p><p>Sam pulled a disgusted face.</p><p>"Dude. Seriously."</p><p>Dean grinned, raising another heaping forkful of caramel apple pie to his mouth.</p><p>"Sam, you only wished you looked half as sexy as this pie"</p><p>Sam left out a soft scoff, rolling his eyes. He unzipped his backpack and withdrew his Macbook.</p><p>"You have Birkenstocks in that bag too?"</p><p>Sam arched a trivial brow at Dean over the lid of the computer. Dean offered his brother a smirk and a waggle of his brows.</p><p>"Why are you even making fun of my computer, you're the whole reason I needed a new one in the first place, Dean."</p><p>"Well, I'm sorry that ghost was trying to gank your skinny ass."</p><p>"But did you have to push me into the river?"</p><p>Dean smirked.</p><p>"That was just a bonus."</p><p>"Dick"</p><p>Sam muttered.</p><p>"Besides you bought it for me, remember."</p><p>Dean picked up his beer, giving Sam a contended glance.</p><p>"No, Rodney Dangerfield bought you that. What terrible taste he has."</p><p>He said pointedly, taking a swig. A smirk paraded over his proud face.</p><p>Sam ducked his head, shielding a smile. He remembered waking up that next day, body tight with chills from the cold he had caught from his midnight dip, to see that Dean was gone and in his place a new Macbook. There had been a messily scrawled note on a crumpled receipt under it.</p><p>"You're a bitch"</p><p>That was Dean's fashion of an apology.</p><p>Every time Sam seemed to be inches from death, Dean always managed to be there to pull him back with the ease of a smile. To be fair, it was almost always Dean's fault that he ended up in those positions, and Dean would relentlessly goad him for days after, but just as he would put Sam in harm's way, he was sure to rebuff the sincerity back into their relationship. Normally it would be a digression of practical jokes for a few days or taking the better-paved roads so that Sam could sleep through the night to much expense at Dean's fatigue. Lately, it had been tangible items, which was incredibly unlike Dean. Maybe it was his age showing on him. Or something else, Sam thought. No matter his actions, they always translate the same.</p><p>I know I laughed then, but I'm sorry now.</p><p>Dean always appeared softer after. You couldn't read it on his face, but you could see it in his eyes.</p><p>It was the way he looked at Sam.</p><p>It would dissipate after a few moments and then they would eventually end up back at the beginning.</p><p>This was Sam's favorite routine now, albeit he could forgo the stabbing, shooting, and general mauling he always managed to endure - but the outstretch of Dean's hand always in reach made the bleeding and the bruising obsolete.</p><p>Dean snapped his fingers twice in front of Sam's face.</p><p>"Earth to Sam"</p><p>Sam's gaze turned to Dean's face, a gentle flush creeping across his own.</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Missing people, town in fear. Scary stuff."</p><p>Dean leaned back in his chair, arm resting across the back coolly.</p><p>"Oh, right."</p><p>Sam murmured. He nervously tapped on the keys, a slight shake behind his fingers.</p><p>He often found himself captured in thought lately. Mostly about Dean.</p><p>It was strange territory.</p><p>"5 Hikers disappeared within 2 weeks out of Basin Landing in Ballard state park. This is the first case since 1905 when 3 settlers seemingly vanished off the banks of Big Forge River. What are we thinking?"</p><p>"A 115-year gap and no omens, traces or local lore about Bigfoot? Are you sure that this is even for us?"</p><p>Dean asked inquisitively.</p><p>"It says here that they are all female, 20-25 years old. And blonde"</p><p>Dean perked, grinning.</p><p>"Well, I'd say that this is right up my alley."</p><p>"You mean our alley, Dean?"</p><p>He smacked his wallet on the table, discarding a crumpled twenty between the empty coffee cups. </p><p>"Sure, Sammy"</p><p>Sam resisted the inane urge to roll his eyes.</p><p>He studied the frozen faces of the girls, desolate eyes staring out of hastily made Missing posters. A haunting image of souls left suspended. Sam could take the demons, and the monster movie creeps. It was the humanity of people that rattled him.</p><p>After a hesitant moment, he closed the laptop, tucking it under his arm. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, exchanging a look with Dean.</p><p>"Ready?"</p><p>Dean shrugged.</p><p>The brothers shambled to the front of the diner. Dean offered the waspy waitress a charming wink as the archaic bell resounded a small tink as Sam shoved open the heavy wooden door.</p><p>Dean reached into the pocket of his jeans and retrieved the keys to the Impala, it sitting tranquilly between a pine tree and the blazing sun setting over the crest of the mountains. Vivid streaks of purples and orange refracted over her mirror black paint.</p><p>Dean let out a loving sigh.</p><p>"Beautiful as ever"</p><p>He crooned, pulling open his door. Sam ignored the intimacy of his brother in this moment. The bond Dean had with this car was - sexual at the least. He found it comforting to advert his eyes while Dean all but humped the seat.</p><p>A smooth turn of his wrist and she rumbled to life, the purr of her engine gently vibrating through Sams' thighs.</p><p>"Where to McKlusky?"</p><p>Dean asked, dialing down the radio.</p><p>Sam grinned at the winsome pet name.</p><p>"I saw a place about a mile back."</p><p>Dean nodded in agreement.</p><p>The diner was off the main stretch of road that brought them into Ballard Utah. It was a broken-down road, riddled with potholes and washboards. The car rattled so badly rolling down this godforsaken road, Sam thought his teeth might dislodge from his skull.</p><p>After 5 painstaking, rutted minutes they veered into a half-empty parking lot. Dean parked in a stall with faded white lines and a crumbling parking block. It was the nicest in the whole lot, and closest to the outskirts of the glowing aura of the big building set in front of them.</p><p>It was a quaint joint, made out of logs, designed to feel rustic. Sam shuddered at that word. Rustic. </p><p>"Chintzy."</p><p>Dean remarked, peering through the window.</p><p>Sam hummed in agreement. Dean reached across Sam, opening the glove box. A spirits linger of Dean's closeness amused Sam. He suppressed the smirk that fell upon his lips. Dean rooted through his collected garbage and withdrew a small stack of bills, carefully fingering through them.</p><p>After making his withdraw from the world's most secure bank, he exchanged a look with Sam.</p><p>"Let's get this over with."</p><p>They exited the car, slinging stuffed duffles over their shoulders. As they approached the front of the hotel, Dean peered around, making a note of their astute surroundings.</p><p>A row of paint chipped doors, a half-burned neon sign telling him there was CANCY. He looked up at the overhead marquee, softly glowing red in the impending dusk.</p><p>"THE TERRY INN"</p><p>He pursed his mouth in thought, stealing a sideways glance at Sam.</p><p>They brushed past the doors, landing in a warm but desolate lobby. An older woman sat behind a large pine desk, reading a dog eared grocery store romance novel. Her graying hair was messily piled on top of her head, and red lipstick feathered on her thinning lips. As Dean approached her she had the distinct smell of cigarettes. And cats.</p><p>She met Dean's eyes, and sat up, fluttering sparse lashes.</p><p>"Welcome to The Terry, I'm Jeanette. What can I do for you...fine young men this evening?"</p><p>Her eyes raced over Dean, smiling.</p><p>Sam couldn't help but chuckle. Dean shot him a foul stare.</p><p>"We need a room, for a couple nights."</p><p>Dean said, readjusting his shoulders.</p><p>She tapped on an archaic desktop computer, stealing quick looks at Dean every few seconds.</p><p>"It looks like I only have one room left, and for 87 dollars it can be yours, Sugar."</p><p>Dean gave her a pressed grin, handing her a fold of cash.</p><p>"We'll take it, thanks."</p><p>She handed him over a key, letting her fingers brush against the back of Dean's hand as she pulled away. Sam could see Dean prickle, his jaw clench.</p><p>This was all but delicious for Sam, not often did he get to see Dean squirm like this.</p><p>Dean turned on his heel, letting out a deeply held breath. Sam offered Jeanette a small wave.</p><p>"You have a good night baby"</p><p>She cooed after Dean. For the first time, her attention turned to Sam.</p><p>"You to honey"</p><p>Sam's face dropped and he didn't have to look to Dean to know his grin was splitting him from ear to ear. Karma liked to kick Sam's ass at every turn it seemed.</p><p>"I think I need a shower."</p><p>Dean said, disgusted.</p><p>Sam laughed.</p><p>They exited the lobby, back into the crisp night air, a stiff breeze billowing carelessly around them. Dean tossed the room key to Sam as they approached it. Sam carefully turned the key in his fingers studying the cut teeth and edges.</p><p>Dean strode away, back towards the car to gather their things. His shadow danced against the last tendril of sunlight still clawing through the haze, and Sam found himself staring a beat too long.</p><p>He turned, his chest heaving slightly and studied the door now, willing his heart to calm the hell down. He slid the key into the knob and with a firm push, reveled in the underwhelming suite before him.</p><p>It smelled old like someone had locked their grandmother in for two weeks. There was only a queen-sized bed clothed in a threadbare red quilt. A sad broken-down couch sat squat in the corner. It was a pullout bed Sam assumed, one that they would fight each over to avoid. What really amused Sam was the carpet. He could clearly see the outline of death ran into the dingy fibers. He gave them credit, as they tried to conceal it (badly) with the bed.</p><p>He threw his bag onto the couch, the length of the day pulling down on him.</p><p>He shuffled to the bathroom, blindly fumbling for the light switch. With a harsh snap, the lights sputtered on, dimly illuminating a just as luxurious bathroom. With a sigh, he approached the sink.</p><p>Sitting in the bowl was a single cockroach. It looked at Sam with quiet contention.</p><p>"Absolutely not " thought Sam.</p><p>With a disgusted face, he opened the tap, water sloshing up. It scurried, quickly being overtaken by the flood. It's despicable little legs flailed around, trying to grip the steep porcelain walls. Sam watched as it vanished down the dark maw of the drain.</p><p>"Wow"</p><p>He heard Dean exclaim. Sam stuck his head out the bathroom door, looking at Dean standing hesitantly in the doorway.</p><p>"It doesn't get any better over here"</p><p>Dean dropped his bag by the door, sighing.</p><p>"I call bed."</p><p>Sam walked over to the bed, looking down at it.</p><p>"The fuck if you do."</p><p>He said, offering Dean a challenging grin.</p><p>Dean shed his jacket, cracking knuckles against his thighs.</p><p>"You wanna bet. I'll suplex your ass"</p><p>The brothers strode towards each other, provocation firing in their eyes.</p><p>"On three?"</p><p>Dean offered, holding out his hand.</p><p>"On three."</p><p>"1...2...3!"</p><p>With triumph Dean flopped on the bed, Sam standing there, expression soured.</p><p>"How do you win every god damned time."</p><p>He huffed, discarding musky cushions onto the floor.</p><p>"Because I am, the literal greatest"</p><p>Dean smiled, stretching his arms over his head. He let out a loud yawn, face sleep drawn. Sam felt that fatigue too, but he could already feel the inescapable back pain he would wake to halfway through the night.</p><p>The gentle snores lulled Sam in. Dean was knocked, still stretched out. This was as good as ever to fall into a tossing, turning sleep. Sam struggled to pull out the terribly squeaky bed and reluctantly he laid down, wincing at the pronounced feeling of uncomfort.</p><p>"No can't do that."</p><p>He whispered and he rolled to his feet, standing miserably.</p><p>Dean's snores were louder now, comical. This made Sam smile, but only for a second. Sam stripped his shirt, discarded his jeans. He rummaged through his bag, procuring his sleep clothes and slipped into them, staring down that disgrace of a bed.</p><p>"I hate you."</p><p>He said, not sure if it was meant to be directed at Dean, or this place. Probably both he assumed.</p><p>With the lights switched off he laid back down, shifting often, listening to the staccato of Dean and the absolute quietness of the night.</p><p>His eyes became too heavy to hold open so he let himself drift into undesired restlessness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. High Noon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was piercing, shattering the idyllic silence. It rattled the walls, the glass in the window shivering.</p><p>Dean's eyes snapped open. He stood, the sheet that was half covering him fluttering to the floor. He looked at the fluorescent green light of the alarm clock resting on the bedside table.</p><p>12:09 AM</p><p>Sam was up now, sleep clawing across his face. He stifled a yawn.</p><p>"What the fuck was that?"</p><p>He asked voice thickened with slumber.</p><p>Dean's breath hitched, just for a split second. He cleared his throat to break up the moment.</p><p>"Whatever it was, it wasn't good."</p><p>Dean grabbed his pistol, securing it in his waistband. Sam was ready by the door, looking at him expectantly.</p><p>With careful steps, Sam slipped out the door into the pitch of the night. Dean crept behind him, hand hesitating near his hip, ready to draw at any moment.</p><p>It was silent, the scene undisturbed by the fervent shriek that had just catapulted through the air a few moments before. Dean noticed that they were the only figures slinking through the inky blackness.</p><p>"Hey,"</p><p>Dean whispered hoarsely.</p><p>"Where the hell is everyone at, we can't be the only ones who heard that."</p><p>Sam shrugged, propelling farther from the safety of their room. They walked silently across the parking lot, heads swiveling to catch the slightest of sounds.</p><p>"Do you hear that?"</p><p>Sam whispered to Dean.</p><p>"No, I don't hear anything."</p><p>Dean asked, face pulling together puzzled.</p><p>"Yeah, that's the point."</p><p>Dean stopped, focusing intently on the silence of the night. There was no wind gently bristling drying leaves and no rhythmic chirping of insects. Not even the rumble of tires pressing against blacktop from the highway a few miles away.</p><p>Sam motioned to Dean.</p><p>"I'll check front you get back"</p><p>Dean nodded and broke away to the right of Sam.</p><p>Sam shuffled blindly through the parking lot, cautiously peering for something that could be lurching for him. There were no lights impishly protruding from the windows of the Inn, hell even the signs had been extinguished for the night.</p><p>The absolute quiet of this place dug under Sam's skin. He could hear the raggedness of his breathing and the pounding of his heart in his chest. He might as well been a bull horn for everything dark and creepy in this instance.</p><p>His foot connected with the lip of the curb and he stumbled, catching himself on his hands before he graciously head-butted the pavement. Hurriedly he reached for his phone, begging for even a glimmer of light. The palm of his right hand was scarped, and it sizzled as it slid against the cotton of his pants. He hissed between clenched teeth and righted himself. He let out a sigh of relief when a pallid beam of light transcended across the road, illuminating a faint path in front of him.</p><p>A heedful moment beat by. This wasn't light cast from a street lamp or a passing pair of headlights. Nor the phone clutched tightly in his hand.</p><p>It came from across the street, nestled deep within a thick bramble of trees. It seemed to float by, a milky iridescent presence. It was moving towards Sam, not rushing in like it was on course for an attack, but softly as if it were dancing to a slow melody.</p><p>He took a few steps forward now, enraptured by the mystery of this light.</p><p>As it grew closer, Sam could see the curling tendrils of light radiating around it now, wisping away like smoke.</p><p>Sam came to the edge of the road, waiting in anticipation for the beacon to expose itself now. It hung on the edge of the tree line with the same anticipation, its evanescent light spilling into the street.</p><p>For a few strained seconds, they stood there on the boundary of suspense waiting for the revelation of something unknown. Finally, it emerged slipping from the safety of the shadows that concealed it.</p><p>It was a Doe. At first, Sam thought it was albino, but no, it couldn't be. The deer practically glowed, the white of its fur burning brightly.</p><p>Sam raised his hand to shield his eyes, suddenly blinded by the intensity of this creature. It stared at him, studying him carefully. Its head was lowered, surveying Sam from a submissive vantage.</p><p>Its eyes captivated Sam. They were a striking blue, glowing just as intensely as the white of the fur.</p><p>Sam was stricken with wonder and a little bit of fear. This wasn't a normal deer, one that could be traipsing through the woods. No, it was ethereal.</p><p>He took a step back, careful not to scare away the creature. He noticed as he receded how far the reach of her glow transcended. It lit the entire lot of the Inn and a good few acres beyond. A flickering match in the absolute nothingness of this night.</p><p>A hand rests on Sam's shoulder and he jumped, reflexively grabbing for an imaginary gun.</p><p>"Whoa."</p><p>Dean whispered.</p><p>Sam let our a terse sigh.</p><p>"Thanks for that"</p><p>He griped.</p><p>"Find anything?"</p><p>Dean asked, steeling his jangled nerves. Sam looked back, only to find the darkness again. The deer had bustled away, out of the purview.</p><p>"Uh, no"</p><p>Sam replied, brow knit in confusion.</p><p>There was no possible way that it had just vanished, not with the way that it had flamed so garishly against this black canvas.</p><p>"Yeah well me either."</p><p>Dean shivered, only slightly.</p><p>The wind whipped angrily around Sam's legs, the definitive cold gripping him tightly. The sound of cars passing broke Sam of his thoughts.</p><p>When had life resumed?</p><p>They started back towards the room, Sam's eyes fixed intently on Dean's back. Thoughts circled his brain like an endless carousel.</p><p>Dean was the first to step back into the room. Sam hesitated a second, feeling the cool metal of the knob in his hand.</p><p>He looked back once, eyes willing that gleaming brightness to appear once more. When he was met with unending darkness, he crossed the threshold and closed the door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Blue on Black</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fat tears welled in her pretty crystal eyes. Dean offered her a tissue and a demure grin.</p><p>"It's just like, so hard without her you know?"</p><p>She squeaked, dabbing at her eyes.</p><p>Dean nodded in sympathy, leaning closer over the counter.</p><p>"I can certainly understand, you two seemed pretty inseparable."</p><p>A tear rolled down her blushed cheek, and Dean wiped at it, a delicate fingertip grazing over smooth skin.</p><p>This made her smile, slightly.</p><p>"Did Chrissy act strangely in the days leading up to her disappearance?"</p><p>Pushed Dean, dialing up his suave demeanor.</p><p>"Well, she didn't like my Instagram picture, which is totally unlike her!"</p><p>His brows arched in surprise.</p><p>"Would you mind showing me that picture, maybe I can see what might've thrown her off."</p><p>She smiled, absently nodding her head.</p><p>"Yeah, wait just a sec. Let me go grab my phone."</p><p>She turned from Dean, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. His eyes hungrily crawled across her figure, settling on the dangerous hem of her little black dress, stretched thin across her supple ass. </p><p>He glanced over his shoulder, sending Sam and enthusiastic thumbs up. Sam grimaced.</p><p>Sometimes Dean's antics could be downright stomach-churning. The constant pursuit of trim grew tiresome on Sam.</p><p>He turned to block the paltry display and stared at the sparkling jewelry under the glass case instead.</p><p>They had been working their way through loved ones of the missing hikers all morning. So far all they had managed to scrounge was that they all like totally were the most wonderful most awesome girls in like the whole world.</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes and relinquished the interrogation duty to Dean. He swore that the women in this town unanimously shared the same 5 brain cells.</p><p>Dean was undoubtedly slipping her his number, and she would be falling all over his sickly sweet facade.</p><p>Sam supposed he shouldn't be feeling this bitter about Dean's fraternous flirting, but it gripped him abhorrently tight, squeezing the breath from him at this moment.</p><p>"Well thank you, Rebecca, you've really helped my partner and me out today. Remember, if you think of anything at all, don't hesitate to give me a call."</p><p>Dean gave her a parting wink, and she stifled a giggle behind well-manicured fingers. Dean strode towards Sam, wearing proud triumph across his face. Sam shook his head, so disappointed in Dean.</p><p>"Wouldn't mind taking her in for some further questioning later."</p><p>Dean jabbed, nudging Sam's ribs.</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>Sam said voice deadpanned.</p><p>Dean smirked.</p><p>"What's up your ass today?"</p><p>"You know, just the fact that we're floundering on this and all Becky had to offer you was what flavor her lip gloss was."</p><p>"It's cherry by the way."</p><p>Dean added, digging deeper at Sam.</p><p>Sam's jaw clenched.</p><p>He couldn't explain this feeling now, this deep-seated gnawing that unrelentlessly consumed him.</p><p>"Where to next chuckles."</p><p>Dean asked, voice feigning annoyance at Sam's lack of jubilance.</p><p>"Tyanna Gibson, 24, went missing 6 weeks ago. Step mom and younger brother are the only remaining family in town"</p><p>"Alright, let's hit them and stop for some lunch. I'm fucking starving."</p><p>Dean chortled, pulling open the heavy glass door of the jewelers.</p><p>"After you princess."</p><p>He remarked, sweeping the path for Sam.</p><p>"You know Dean we could get this done quicker if we just split up."</p><p>Dean stiffened. It was unusual for Sam to be so cold in his affectation. He had grown to accommodate a certain level of stiffness about him. But this was unwarranted. Dean could press him about this, but he knew it would only end in Sam snapping and a large unsettling silence forced between them for the next few hours. Dean hated those silences, the ones were Sam drew into himself, brooding and pissy. Always towards Dean. He hated that fucking bitch face too, the one that always planted itself on Sam's mouth.</p><p>"Probably."</p><p>He replied, studying Sam's hard-set expression.</p><p>It was a relatively nice day today. A crisp breeze tickled over Dean's shoulder, wisping Sam's fly away hairs into his eyes. He brushed them back, puffing out an annoyed breath.</p><p>Dean grinned. He always told Sam that he needed a haircut when it fell into his face. But Sam never listened, always brushing him off with a roll of his shoulder; or eyes.</p><p>Dean liked the way it fell now because those striking hazel eyes would settle on him for a brief moment after he pushed it back. An I know what you want to say but don't look that could stop Dean breathing altogether. He had always assumed that it was just the absolute power behind Sam's glances. The striking mesmerization of them.</p><p>Dean snapped from the trance of his thoughts to see the car pull silently to the curb next to them.</p><p>"Shit."</p><p>He muttered to Sam, turning towards him.</p><p>Sam's eyes widened as he turned to follow Dean, hoping that they could slip away.</p><p>"Gentleman."</p><p>Called an assertive voice, its timbre low and captivating.</p><p>Dean was the first to turn, a smile spackled on as he gathered the confidence to speak.</p><p>"How can we help you?"</p><p>Bravado faltered to apprehension as they were approached by three sheriff's deputies.</p><p>They stood in an awkward fashion, the man in the front dwarfed by the other two deputies. He was short and slim, wiry black hair neatly pleated into a braid falling down his back. He had deeply lined tan skin, hardened by years in the sun and wisdom. He studied Dean intently, taking in the half-pressed lapel of his blazer, and how his belt didn't match his shoes.</p><p>Sam began to sweat, hand instinctively coming to his ear lobe, nervously twisting at it.</p><p>Dean suppressed his delighted smile.</p><p>"When I heard that they sent in the Big Boys, I just had to come and see for myself how you were making along with this case."</p><p>The man said, a knowing grin spread over his mouth.</p><p>"Just fine, thanks for your inquisition"</p><p>Dean said, nodding at his crony.</p><p>"Name is Quill Long Feather Anderson. Folks round these parts just call me Quill."</p><p>He said with an assured tip of his hat.</p><p>"Agent Alex Benson."</p><p>Dean said, producing his badge.</p><p>"And this is my partner, Craig Brooks."</p><p>Sam offered a curt nod.</p><p>Quill studied them now, prying eyes surveying the two.</p><p>"And the bosses in DC didn't think we could handle a few wayward townies huh?"</p><p>Dean shrugged.</p><p>"Don't shoot the messengers. We just go where we're sent."</p><p>"Uh-huh"</p><p>Quill quipped.</p><p>Sam shot Dean a measured glance.</p><p>"If you'd like, you boys could come down to the station and you could talk with my crew. Maybe discuss some leads."</p><p>"We're okay for now, but if we stumble across something astonishing we'll give you a call."</p><p>Sam piqued, eyes narrowing.</p><p>Quill turned to his deputies, whispering vehemently.</p><p>They stood there, squared for a duel. Dean's rigid posture mirrored Sam's prickled attitude. He couldn't be bothered with the childish bearing of this meaningless squabble.</p><p>This happened nearly every time. Defenses were raised and scathing jabs were thrown back and forth. Then they would circle each other, making it harder for them to slip under the radar.</p><p>This was especially difficult when it involved dead bodies.</p><p>"If you will excuse us, my partner and I have a few pressing matters to attend to. You know how it goes."</p><p>Sam challenged, crossing his arms.</p><p>Quill met him with a knowing smile, the flicker of his eyes telling Sam that this wasn't over, simply reserved for later.</p><p>Their obstinance was broken by the screech of the radio, a frantic voice calling out. Quills' face darkened, and his deputies turned tail to clamber into the patrol car.</p><p>"You ought to come with me now."</p><p>He said sullenly.</p><p>"We have another report of a missing hiker."</p><p>The brothers exchanged glances.</p><p>"We'll meet you there."</p><p>Dean said. Quill gave him a nod and he hustled to the waiting car. The moment his door shut, they peeled away, siren wailing fervently in the calm blue of the day.</p><p>Dean's heart beat a little faster, blood swirling at the first applicable lead to this case.</p><p>Sam looked to him, that angry bitterness dissipating into nothing now. He should feel relieved, but instead, he still felt stuck in the mire of confusion. What was going on with him?</p><p>Sam climbed into the Impala, staring absently as Dean steered away from downtown, trailing behind the patrol car.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Big Bad Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean was not made to slink through the woods.</p><p>Especially at night.</p><p>He had managed to snap the loudest twigs, and rustle the driest leaves. The only thing louder than his bumbling was the hiss of Sam's persistent warning to keep quiet.</p><p>They had slipped into Ballard state park just as the first stars of twilight crested the night sky. Sam had made Dean abandon the car a mile from the entrance, carefully secluding it in the dense forest.</p><p>Earlier that morning they had arrived 5 minutes after the others , completely thrown by the absolute circus they had stumbled on. The Sheriffs had completely trampled any sign of existence. </p><p>Now, they weren't exactly sure what they were looking for. Dean had hoped that it would just jump out at him, smack him directly in the face with a startling revelation. All he was met with was disturbed brush.</p><p>Sam hadn't let up on him either, his piss poor attitude growing old quickly. He had picked at his meals and sat uninterested while Dean spoke. He even barked carelessly at their leads. Dean had to all but shove him out the door to avoid the mauling they could've endured.</p><p>A quick scurry stopped Dean. He carefully shone his light to the downy underbrush of the forest floor. The foliage softly bristled from a gentle wisp of wind coming undetected from above.</p><p>His eyes fixed upon a peculiar shred hanging limply from the throng of a bramble. He approached it cautiously, listening intently to his surroundings.</p><p>He crouched down, gathering it between his fingers. With a small tug he freed it, examining.  It was a tattered piece of fabric, torn hastily from a blue Patagonia jacket. What particularly interested him was the deep crimson splotch unfolding deeply on the piece.</p><p>Blood.</p><p>He righted himself, pocketing the jacket piece. He could see the dancing beam of Sam's flashlight a few feet away now.</p><p>He began to call out but was interrupted at the sudden drop in his stomach. His heels sunk deeply into the wet ground.</p><p>It was slow at first, his feet falling from under him and hands grabbing in vain for anything, even the smallest iota of substance to steady him again. Then it came quickly, his face slamming into the soft dirt, fingers clawing through leaves and roots to no avail.</p><p>He was gaining speed, slick earth sending him down the embankment like a luge. His legs came over him, tumbling down, down, down. His back chided against rocky silt, arms flailing.</p><p>He finally came to a halt, body slammed against a sturdy tree trunk. He rolled to his knees, breaths struggling to escape his anguished torso. The weight of his battered body was too much to bear as he collapsed, consciousness fizzling at the corners of his mind.</p><p>He wasn't sure what snapped him awake. It could've been the distant cry of Sam calling for him, panic gripping his voice. Or it was the metallic clang of the foothold trap that had just closed around Dean's forearm.</p><p>"FUCK"</p><p>He screamed through grit teeth, arm searing in insurmountable pain. </p><p>"Dean!"</p><p>Sam was there now, Jeans mud-stained from his slide down the embankment. Burning tears streaked Dean's dirtied face, pain slithering from his lips in agonizing moans.</p><p>"What the fuck."</p><p>Sam breathed, hands nervously touching the trap.</p><p>"God DAMNIT Sam don't touch it"</p><p>Dean growled.</p><p>"I can't just leave it."</p><p>He griped back.</p><p>Hot acrid blood began to pool down his arm, smearing against Sam's fingers, his touch slick on Dean.</p><p>Sam's hands shook nervously, pulling at the release on the trap. Dean recoiled in pain as he tried to pry it free, his cries piercing Sam's ears.</p><p>"Don't hate me for this."</p><p>Sam begged.</p><p>He planted a knee firmly into Dean's chest, eliciting a wheezing cough.</p><p>He grabbed both sides of the snare and he pulled, fingers straining against the strong metal jaws, grip sliding mercilessly from the damp wash of Dean's blood and the mud that had generously accrued.</p><p>Dean screamed now, deep and guttural. Sam clasped a hand over his brother's mouth, urging his silence.</p><p>A familiar fire flickered in the pit of Sam's stomach.</p><p>With another heaving pull, he wrenched open the trap. Dean ripped his arm away, curling defensively into himself, groaning.</p><p>Sam shrugged off his jacket, hastily fastening it around Dean's arm to staunch the blood.</p><p>"We need to go."</p><p>Sam urged, trying to gather Dean now.</p><p>He managed to get him to his feet, all of his weight leaned against Sam.</p><p>Icy fingers of nausea squeezed Dean.</p><p>"Sam"</p><p>He breathed, chest heaving raggedly.</p><p>"I can't...I can't do this."</p><p>"Yes you can"</p><p>He replied. He slung Dean's good arm over his shoulder, dragging him back towards the road. Dean's head rolled into Sam's shoulder, falling in and out of the holds of reality.</p><p>As they breached the treeline, Sam stopped, panic settling over him.</p><p>He couldn't carry Dean another mile to the car.</p><p>He dug his hand in Dean's pocket, receiving a disgruntled groan from Dean.</p><p>"Shut up, and hold on."</p><p>Sam said, fingers closing around the car keys. He carefully shrugged Dean off, settling him into the shroud of trees.</p><p>"I'll be right back."</p><p>Sam assured him.</p><p>Dean watched as Sam tore off in a dead sprint, fading quickly from his peripheral. His head was screaming, arm throbbing.</p><p>The haze that hung over his vision was beginning to clear, his mind starting to react to his banged-up body.</p><p>His arm was punctured in at least 4 places, the angry red gashes burning, still trickling the most feeble streams of hot blood. The bruising had begun to set in, and striking pain radiated through his entire arm.</p><p>He hoped he had avoided a concussion, but his head felt as if it had been split in two. He must've slammed it on the way down, or a few times.</p><p>His chest was still tight, and his back was singing. He wouldn't be able to move in the morning, body cold wracked in searing, white-hot pain.</p><p>He could hear the familiar rumble approach him, her faint headlights basking him in a delicate glow. Sam came to a screeching halt, and Dean pulled a face.</p><p>He wanted to yell at Sam for riding the breaks that way, but he couldn't muster up his strength.</p><p>Sam jumped from the car, scrambling to his side.</p><p>"I got it Sammy,"</p><p>He grunted, staggering to his feet.</p><p>Sam shot an arm out, steadying Dean's unpredictable sways.</p><p>He discarded Dean into the car in a crumpled heap. He slid behind the wheel, shifting her abruptly, lurching sharply forward.</p><p>Sam looked at Dean, awaiting the beration for mishandling his baby.</p><p>The silence sent Sam into a deeper panic.</p><p>For 15 minutes, Sam felt like he was holding his breath. Dean had stopped lulling out of his feigned sleep, he now just stared at the ceiling, wincing at any bump or jolt.</p><p>Sam rolled into the parking lot, barely slipping the keys out of the ignition before jumping out. He went to the back, rummaging madly through their supplies for the first aid kit. </p><p>Dean staggered out, leaning against the car for security.</p><p>Sam, now encumbered with a small emergency room, gathered Dean and coraled him into their room.</p><p>Dean flopped onto the bed, a defeated sigh passing his lips. Sam threw two washcloths into the sink and wet them down, hands fumbling.</p><p>As he emerged from the bathroom, Dean laid there, breathing slowed and content. The adrenaline surge had dropped off and he had begun to come down.</p><p>Sam clambered up next to him, his attention coming to Dean's arm.</p><p>He opened the kit, retrieving gauze and bandages.</p><p>"This is gonna be cold."</p><p>He whispered, soothingly.</p><p>He pressed the wet cloth against Dean's angry flesh. He sighed, this time from anticipated relief. Sam slowly dabbed the drying blood and sweat from his wounds, watching Dean's face after every movement.</p><p>Dean lay quiet, gaze adverting Sam.</p><p>Sam pressed the gauze against Dean's arm now, wrapping it gently.</p><p>He never noticed the smoothness of Dean's skin before. And the warmth. He caught himself staring at his arms, his hands. How rugged they looked, and how captivating the throbbing veins were that ran up his forearms into his biceps.</p><p>Sam looked at him again.</p><p>Those piercing green eyes were fixed on him, watching as he triaged his older brother.</p><p>This was rare for them.</p><p>Absolute silence doesn't come naturally to them, one always struggling to fill the awkwardness so that they weren't allowed to stall.</p><p>Sam realized that his touch lingered a moment too long against the inside of Dean's arm. He withdrew his hand, a blush furling over his cheeks.</p><p>"I, uh I'm going to get you some stuff for the pain."</p><p>He said hushedly, standing.</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Dean said, just as softly.</p><p>Sam didn't want to drop those eyes. They were deep and soulful, swirling green and soft.</p><p>Dean struggled to keep them open.</p><p>Dean watched as Sam retreated to their bags, shuffling through for a suitable cocktail of pharmaceuticals that would hopefully put him out for the next 48 hours.</p><p>Sam dropped the pills in Dean's open hand and a bottle of water and ensure that he swallowed them all down.</p><p>He left Dean to rest as he gathered himself into the shower, discarding his dirtied clothes in a neat heap outside the door.</p><p>Dean let himself drift into a foggy marsh of sleep, his arm burning from a more favorable warmth.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Abracadabra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean had been asleep for 27 hours.</p><p>Sam had managed to scrape together a sparse file, eyes tirelessly running over a scatter marked map, his mind arduously firing blanks. </p><p>He sat back in the cheap wooden chair of his makeshift desk. He scrubbed his tired face, feeling the ghost of stubble coming in. </p><p>The coffee had been cut off for about 6 hours now, body running on the last dregs of energy. He gazed longingly at that dreadful little couch and dreamed of falling onto it, slipping into sweet unconscious bliss. </p><p>His phone chimed, breaking his trance. Picking it up, he studied the screen for just a moment before bringing it to his ear. </p><p>"Hey Bobby" </p><p>He said, sighing tiredly. </p><p>"Jeeze boy, did I just wake you up?" </p><p>Sam glanced at his watch, chuckling. </p><p>"Not quite." </p><p>"I got those pictures. I looked at them for a good while, and I have to ask. What exactly am I looking at Sam?" </p><p>He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn. </p><p>"God I don't know. This doesn't make any sense. There's no pattern, these girls were snatched at different places in the park. All I've got to go on is whatever this is has a penchant for blondes." </p><p>"Well," </p><p>Started Bobby. </p><p>"Do you really think that this is for you two? This could be a person Sam" </p><p>He picked up the map, looking at the blue X's littered about.</p><p>Dean stirred, a soft moan escaping his lips as he leaned up, bracing himself on his good arm. Sam glanced at him, only for a moment.</p><p>"I mean, I think so but, all signs are pointing every direction." </p><p>He picked up a pencil, carefully dragging its dull point over traced lines. </p><p>"I've also been looking around for anything about that town, and Sam it's the least touched spot on this damn earth. Not so much as a freak power outage In the entire history of the place. I've never seen that." </p><p>"Yeah" </p><p>Agreed Sam. </p><p>"I mean the other night, It was weird. We heard a, uh, a scream, at about midnight. Went out to investigate and no one else seemed to notice. And what's more, is that the entire world seemed to stop." </p><p>"Hmm." </p><p>"And there was the deer." </p><p>"The deer?" </p><p>Sam glanced back towards Dean. He was sitting up now, eyes fighting to stay open. </p><p>"Yeah, I saw a deer." </p><p>Sam said, voice dropping. </p><p>"You're in rural Utah, you might see a few of those boy." </p><p>Sam didn't appreciate the snarky bite of Bobby's tone. </p><p>"I don't know how many more I'll see that are glowing though." </p><p>Sam added. </p><p>"Glowing deer, interesting." </p><p>"At first I thought spirit or an apparition, but no violent deaths reported. Ever." </p><p>"Let me check a few things, Give me a holler if you find anything else." </p><p>"I will, thanks Bobby" </p><p>Sam said his goodbyes now, turning his attention to the groan of compressing bed springs. </p><p>"Good morning sunshine, how do you feel?" </p><p>He muttered, discarding his phone on the table. </p><p>"Fucking bad." </p><p>Mumbled Dean. He stood and began to slowly shuffle towards the bathroom. </p><p>He looked rough. His face was riddled with scruff, skin still glazed in dirt. The back of his right arm was bruised black, and he had begun to bleed through his bandages. He was scraped and dinged and bruised from top to bottom. </p><p>Sam heard the squelch of the shower tap being turned, and the hesitant gurgle of water trickling down. </p><p>He stood from his work, stretching long arms over his head. His back was stiff and his stomach growled from its self imposed emptiness. </p><p>Dean would reprimand him if he had been up to his usual candor. </p><p>Sam felt the smallness of their confines closing around him, the intense must of the room suffocating his lungs. </p><p>He grabbed his jacket, slinging it over his slumped shoulder. </p><p>The night air was heavy, weighed down by the humidity of the relentless curtain on drizzle that fell. He expected it to be cool, but instead, it was lukewarm, rolling hotly down the back of Sam's neck. </p><p>He grimaced. </p><p>The town appeared to be busier than he had yet to witness. The Inn had a hearty queue of cars in the lot and people lulled in and out of the adjoined tavern. </p><p>Sam decided he wanted to walk, stretch his caged legs and drink in the thickness of the mountain air. </p><p>The yellow glow of a distant Shell sign caught his attention. </p><p>He set down the road, hugging the inside of the broken up sidewalk, listening to the whiz of cars that passed by him. </p><p>The rich smell of wet dirt was refreshing to Sam. It smelled clean and sharp, heavy rain turning dark soil. </p><p>This case was infuriating, and Sam hated pedaling into the large expanse of nothing, grasping for straws. Dean managing to break himself wasn't helping either. </p><p>He pushed into the gas station, the bright fluorescent lighting biting at his weary eyes. </p><p>The attendant looked over his magazine at him, quickly dismissing the passing figure. </p><p>Sam fumbled for a cup, dumping the remaining dark roast from the warm pot. It sat nicely against his chilled hand, it's swirling life reassuring his jangled nerves. </p><p>He withdrew a sandwich from the deli case and a snickers bar. He knew it wasn't Dean's meal of choice, but it would have to suffice for tonight. </p><p>He neatly placed the items on the cracked counter and the attendant lazily scanned them, eyes continuously darting back to what he was reading. </p><p>"That'll be $8.79." </p><p>His voice seemed far away, disinterested. </p><p>Sam slid a neatly folded $10 bill and received his things in a clingy plastic bag, and his change all in coins. </p><p>He roughly shoved them into his pocket, the annoying jingle of them crashing around in his pocket already grating his last working nerve. </p><p>"Have a good one." </p><p>He griped, retreating into the damp night. </p><p>The walk back seemed inherently longer than the one there, and he sighed. It was darker now, the steady stream of cars trickling down to nothing, the sound of nature ringing softly in his ears. There were a lot of crickets, he noted, their singing melody rising and falling with every step he took. </p><p>The sound of flowing water called to him, the ditches flooding,  water rushing into the drainage pipe. He peered down into the black jaws of the pipe, smiling to himself at the fact there might be a comical little clown lurking beyond his reach. </p><p>He was delirious from the lack of sleep, that must be it. </p><p>As he rounded the corner to the motel, he noticed that the cars that once encumbered the lot had all but vanished, the impala sitting lonely in her spot. </p><p>The crescendo of the crickets had ceased, and the pour of drizzle overhead had dried. A finger of suspicion ram up Sam's spine. </p><p>He quickened his pace, long legs striding towards the room. His hand reached out for the safety of the knob when he stopped, transfixed on the white glow reflecting on the hazy window. He turned, seeing that doe creep out from her place behind the impala. </p><p>His heart leapt into his throat. </p><p>How had he walked past this creature and hadn't had a single indication that it was there?</p><p>It studied him now, those florid blue eyes watching Sam. </p><p>With a pass of its spindly white leg, it drew in, closing the much-desired distance. It's pale pink nose twitched curiously, muzzle reaching in for Sam.</p><p>He felt frozen, panic telling him to move, open the door. Inquisition told him to stay, see if this spectral deity allowed him to grace the surface of it's blazing aura. </p><p>Just as it was in an arms reach away, Dean flung open the door, startling Sam. </p><p>He snapped his head around, eyes wide. </p><p>"You just going to stand there all night?" </p><p>Dean asked, voice thickened by sleep. </p><p>Sam looked back, seeing the deer gone, the night untouched by the intensity of its light. </p><p>"No, I, I um thought I saw something." </p><p>Sam said weakly, turning back to Dean. </p><p>Dean looked at him, concern pooling in those green eyes. </p><p>He stepped back from the door, insinuating Sam follow. </p><p>Sam placed their goods on the couch, sinking desolately onto the bed.</p><p>"I got you some food if you're hungry" </p><p>He offered, his gaze not meeting Dean's. </p><p>"Dude, have you been to sleep yet? You look like shit." </p><p>Sam shook his head. </p><p>He was too preoccupied with the pounding in his chest. Maybe not from the deer, but Dean. </p><p>He stood on the outskirts of Sam, arms folded across his broad chest. </p><p>A ratty towel hung low around his waist and glistening droplets rolled down his shoulders. His dark hair fell against his face wetly and he was clean-shaven, revealing his square jaw. </p><p>Sam bit back the blush that threatened to paint over his face. The sight of Dean shouldn't be undoing him this way. </p><p>Dean arched a questioning brow, prodding at Sam. </p><p>"I was looking over your work," </p><p>Dean said. </p><p>"and let me tell you, worst game of pictionary ever."</p><p>Sam narrowed his eyes. Dean let out a heavy breath. </p><p>"I found this, you know before I took a nose dive off the side of a cliff." </p><p>Dean said, holding up the bloodied shred of the jacket. </p><p>"Where did you find that?" </p><p>Sam asked, standing. </p><p>"Less than 100 feet of where we came in at, it was stuck on some underbrush, right where I fell."</p><p>Sam brushed past him, snatching the clue from his hand. He grabbed at a pen, hastily marking on the map.</p><p>"Fuck!" </p><p>He muttered. </p><p>Dean came next to him, watching his brother frantically connect the points on his map. Sam stood, mouth set in a contended scowl. </p><p>"What's that look like to you Dean?" </p><p>Sam asked, staring.</p><p>Dean studied it, eyes following every drawn line. </p><p>"If you ask me, that looks like a hell of a deer you've got there Sammy."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Dial One for Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"That's what I'm talking about."</p><p>Dean said, beaming at the overflowing plate of food set before him. The monstrous burger and its trimming were surmounted by the heap of hot greasy fries.</p><p>The waitress lingered a second, her chest in full view of Dean. He drank in the few seconds of uninterrupted cleavage.</p><p>"Anything else I can get for you?"</p><p>She purred in a sugary voice.</p><p>"Not right now sweetheart."</p><p>He replied with his charismatic Dean Winchester smile.</p><p>She smiled bashfully, tucking bottle-blonde hair behind her ear. She retreated, glancing at him longingly over the bar's counter.</p><p>Gathering his conquest, he took a large mouth-filling bite, euphoria flooding over him. He all but came from the sheer sensation of this meal.</p><p>He felt ravenously hungry lately. His stint as sleeping beauty had awoken a deep insatiable appetite that he attempted to appease with cheap gas station coffee and Nacho Slim Jims. Even now this small feast was nothing compared to the bottomless pit of Dean's stomach.</p><p>The blinds in the window began to vibrate, plastic slats jiving together. The table quaked and the salt and pepper shakers clinked together. Worried faces glanced around the diner, people clutching tables and ducking beneath their chairs.</p><p>The lights flickered a wicked strobe overhead. Dean gripped the edge of his seat, feeling like he was about to shake out of his seat.</p><p>A light bulb erupted over the front door and there was a muffled scream.</p><p>Then silence.</p><p>An air of confusion settled around them as they clambered to their feet, shaky legs holding steady. There was murmuring, puzzled expressions flying through out the room .</p><p>The door opened with a chime, and Dean's face dropped in disinterest.</p><p>The man slid into Dean's booth, staring at him from across the table.</p><p>"Jesus Cas, really?"</p><p>"Hello Dean."</p><p>He replied in that monotone prose.</p><p>"You couldn't have just popped in? You scared the shit out of these people."</p><p>"I couldn't very well just conjure myself, that would've been improbable."</p><p>Dean huffed.</p><p>"Well, we could've gone without the freight train."</p><p>Castiel tipped his head in quiet confusion.</p><p>"I know. I know you don't get that."</p><p>Dean readjusted his plate, staring abjectly at the fries that had been thrown from it during the commotion. He grasped one, holding it out to the angel.</p><p>He took it, staring at the flaccid potato clutched between his fingers.</p><p>"What do I with this, Dean?"</p><p>He asked, failing to see the amusement of the situation.</p><p>"Hold it I guess."</p><p>Dean remarked, shoveling in another bite.</p><p>"Where is Sam?"</p><p>He asked, focusing intently on Dean.</p><p>"Left him at the hotel. Had a late night, and wasn't up for a nutritious meal."</p><p>Castiel raised a brow.</p><p>"That is unlike him to reject an opportunity to accompany you."</p><p>Dean shrugged.</p><p>"I don't know man, he's been acting weird the past few days."</p><p>Castiel leaned in.</p><p>"What do you mean by weird? He has always been the more peculiar of your brood"</p><p>Dean smirked. Sam had been acting more freakish than per usual. He seemed to be wound too tight, snapping out at Dean for every exiguous inconvenience, and how he was suddenly gun shy around Dean. His gaze always dropped or he stared for just a moment too long.</p><p>And all that fucking blushing.</p><p>"I think it's this case, just getting to him."</p><p>Castiel nodded.</p><p>"And you are not bothered by the lack of progress?"</p><p>Dean scowled.</p><p>"It's just a rough one. You know they happen from time to time"</p><p>"And this?"</p><p>Castiel remarked, gingerly touching the edge of Dean's bandage.</p><p>This drew a sarcastic laugh from Dean.</p><p>"Spent so much time chasing cougar's the universe thought I was one."</p><p>Castiel smiled.</p><p>"That is funny."</p><p>Castiel discarded the cold fry he had been holding and it laid there, crumpled on the table.</p><p>"I have noticed your relationship with him the past few weeks has been inconsistent."</p><p>Dean narrowed his gaze, foot subconsciously tapping nerves onto the tacky tile floor.</p><p>"There has been a strong disconnect. From Sam towards you."</p><p>"And that means?"</p><p>Prodded Dean.</p><p>"He is missing something, emotionally or physically I can't quite deduce. You know that he relies quite contently on the cues of your actions"</p><p>A trivial brow raised.</p><p>"Dean, no one can deny the adoration Sam carries for you. I think that he waits for you to guide him towards life decisions."</p><p>Dean leaned back in the booth, sighing.</p><p>"So I need to get him laid."</p><p>Castiel nodded.</p><p>"In a literal sense, yes."</p><p>Dean pursed his lips in thought.</p><p>That was the problem with the Winchester's. They didn't have metaphorical angels and demons, you know the kitschy ones that hover above your shoulder whispering comically awful advice into their ears.</p><p>They had legitimate ones, who were full of unrelenting sarcasm and archaic knowledge. And they severely lacked subtlety.</p><p>"It wouldn't be hard, this town is crawling in potential babes."</p><p>Dean added, eyes wandering back to his scanty waitress.</p><p>"I will take your word for it."</p><p>Agreed Castiel.</p><p>He watched as she walked away, smile turned to another bustling table. She passed the window in the back of the bar and that's where his attention settled now.</p><p>He leaned forward, interest piqued.</p><p>On the other side of the street, between a beat to hell Ford pickup and a silver Chevy Malibu, stood a Doe. It watched Dean as intently as he watched it, it's incandescent eyes shining.</p><p>He blinked twice to assure himself that it wasn't a trick of the light.</p><p>"Is that a white deer?"</p><p>He asked, eyes narrowing.</p><p>Castiel turned, searching.</p><p>After a moment, he looked back to Dean, brows knit with confusion.</p><p>"I do not see what you are referring to."</p><p>Dean looked back, and surely as it had appeared, it had vanished into the receding afternoon light.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Daisy Chains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They sat in angered silence.</p><p>Dean had yelled at Sam for withholding the Deer.</p><p>Sam had yelled at Dean for yelling.</p><p>They were in the car, neither of them willing to move.</p><p>"Are we just going to sit here all night or...?"</p><p>Spat Dean. Sam shrugged.</p><p>"Sounds good to me."</p><p>Dean blew a hard breath through his nose.</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>He climbed out, slamming the door behind him. Sam winced at the rock of the car.</p><p>Dean didn't often have these mood swings, but God when he did they were intense. They burned hot, radiating scathing heat. Sam knew to stay away then. He was so much like their father when he was angry.</p><p>Sam hated it.</p><p>He hated it more that Dean had headed off, wandering uncharted woodlands by himself. With quiet defeat, Sam rose, softly shutting his door.</p><p>His hand reassured his gun tucked snugly into his jacket, and was startled to see Dean still standing there, leaning against the car.</p><p>"Bout fucking time."</p><p>He muttered, looking at Sam.</p><p>Sam was filled with a rush of satisfaction now.</p><p>After Sam made the startling discovery on the map, it was decided that they needed to go back, search deeper within the park. It was in their best interest to survey the land that fell as close to the middle as possible.</p><p>Sam felt uneasy about this, wishing they had more to go on than a ripped piece of fabric and a deer that liked to Houdini all about the town.</p><p>Dean retrieved their pack from the trunk, tossing it to Sam.</p><p>"Let's go."</p><p>He said, motioning with his flashlight.</p><p>They walked in silence, for the most part, appreciating the brisk hand of the wind against their tired faces.</p><p>As they approached the gates of the park, Dean turned to Sam.</p><p>"I hope you get stuck in a bear trap, that'd be sweet."</p><p>Sam couldn't withdraw his enigmatic smile.</p><p>"Jerk"</p><p>"Bitch"</p><p>Dean scaled the iron gate, dropping hard onto his feet. Sam tossed over their things, hearing it hit Dean with a hefty thump, and he went over, albeit a bit more gracefully than Dean.</p><p>"Where to?"</p><p>Sam retrieved the folded map from his pocket, studying messily scrawled coordinates.</p><p>"Where we came up a few nights ago. It's about a mile off this trail. If we go farther down, we'll end up pretty central."</p><p>He added, shoving the map into the front pocket of the backpack.</p><p>"Yeah, about that."</p><p>Dean snipped, flashlight pointed towards the darkness.</p><p>Illuminated in the pale yellow glow, was a monstrous tree obscuring the path.</p><p>Sam sighed. Climbing over was out of the question, as it stood a good 4 feet over his head.</p><p>"There's a service path over here."</p><p>Dean said light sweeping over the foot stomped trail.</p><p>"Maybe we can follow this until we get around the bastard."</p><p>Sam nodded.</p><p>They started down the path, loose gravel and trampled foliage leading their way.It was slick, rain trodden ground spongy under heavy boots.</p><p>Dean felt his footings slip, and he flailed, catching himself on what he assumed was a rock. There was a disheartening squelch and at that moment he had wished he had fallen over his head instead.</p><p>"Sam, I stepped in something."</p><p>He whispered, gruffly.</p><p>That's when the smell hit. It was like a sucker punch to the gut and Sam's face soured.</p><p>"Dude I think you stepped on an animal."</p><p>They shone their lights down at Dean's feet and their stomachs plummeted to their knees.</p><p>A regurgitated mess of bloodied blonde hair and shredded flesh sat stoutly in the middle of the walkway, curdled blood sitting on top of rancid dirt. A motley of maggots slithered through the rot.</p><p>Sam covered his mouth.</p><p>"Are you fucking kidding me, these are my favorite boots."</p><p>Hissed dean.</p><p>Sam nudged him, eyes cast up in the trees.</p><p>On a branch, not far from the remains, billowed the rest of the jacket. Its tattered backing hung limply there. It had been ripped apart - Or rather clawed.</p><p>Dean vehemently scrubbed his foot against the ground, trying to rid it of the filth, cursing under his breath.</p><p>"I'd say we're heading the right way."</p><p>Sam said voice faltering confidence.</p><p>They continued, only after Dean insisted Sam lead the way.</p><p>The canopy of trees towered above them, choking out the remainder of the moonlight. It was cold, but the air was thick with humidity. It clung to their skin, pulled at their clothes.</p><p>Goosebumps prickled on Dean's arms, his breaths coming in shallow waves. His arm began to throb. It wasn't noticeable at first, just a dull ache. But it progressed to a mindful thump. He grabbed it, squeezing at the surmounting pressure.</p><p>It was growing colder, ice creeping through Sam's veins. He shivered, a cold sweat wicking through his shirt. His breaths clouded in front of them, a soft opaque haze.</p><p>Dean hissed, hot gripping pain twisting through his shoulder into his back.</p><p>Sam's steps faltered, his knees stinging from the intense chill that blanketed around him. There was no light, the darkness boxing them in. Sam bumped into Dean's back, their path becoming increasingly narrow.</p><p>Sam looked beside him, at the passing trees.</p><p>It seemed that every few moments they would pass the same gnarled oak tree, it's heavy branches hanging inches above Sam's head.</p><p>How long had they been walking?</p><p>Dean turned to his side, squeezing through the path. Rock walls pressed against his chest, his back.</p><p>They stumbled into a clearing. There were no trees, no brush. The stars overhead seemed too bright, too clear. Glittering like flawless diamonds in the indigo sky.</p><p>Sam looked to Dean, confusion perched on his lips.</p><p>"I don't know."</p><p>Whispered Dean.</p><p>A peculiar smell tickled at Sam's nose. It wasn't necessarily bad, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. It was mildewy, and stout, like sun worn leather that had been through a few spring showers.</p><p>And Earth. Freshly tilled dirt, rotting leaves. It was abhorrently strong, drawing in closer.</p><p>A gust of wind whipped across Sam's face, coiled around Dean's shoulders.</p><p>And there was a laugh.</p><p>It pierced the silence, tailing through the wind that billowed across the open sky.</p><p>But it wasn't filled with light exuberance like you except. It was sharp, and it seemed almost more like a growl.</p><p>A sudden flicker of light pulled the boys' attention. It was as if someone had sparked a match, the singularity of the flame dancing slowly against the night.</p><p>They found that they were stuck to the ground, bodies uncompelled to move, eyes transfixed on the growing entity.</p><p>Something struck Sam as wrong. The air was too heavy, and the sky too dark. And that light moved too smoothly, languidly speeding towards them, splitting against the perfect dirt.</p><p>He fell from his trance, hand lashing out towards Dean to repel him, just as it crashed through the space he had just occupied.</p><p>They fell to the ground, faces widened with horror at the hulking figure.</p><p>It was tall, towering over Sam, it's body disproportionate to its long gangling limbs. The eyes were two hollow stones, blackness boring through its pasty head. The slash of a mouth was crammed full of twisted rotting teeth.</p><p>That smell was overtaking them, choking their lungs.</p><p>It's white burning light was intense, searing Sam's eyes, forcing Dean to look away, shielding himself in the confines of his jacket.</p><p>It lowered itself to Sam's face, cancerous breath fanning hotly over his cheeks.It made Sam retch, stomach rolling.</p><p>A loud bang streaked through the air, the firm sound of the bullets connecting with doughy skin sickening. It screeched a horrendous raucous sound.</p><p>Dean fired twice more, striking it in the back and the leg.</p><p>It didn't deter the thing, but it allowed Dean to grab hold of Sam's collar to yank him away.They ran, legs pumping fervently, trying to put as much distance in between them as humanly possible. They tore through the trees, branches snagging on clothes and skin, nipping relentlessly.</p><p>It was as if the trees were trying to grab them, force them to stop.</p><p>The safety of the highway was just ahead, Dean could see the glimmer of headlights. His hand closed around Sam's arm as he dove, crashing through the threshold of the trees, bodies slamming into the pavement.</p><p>Sam groaned at the impact, hand coming to resolve his banged shoulder. His chest heaved with labored breaths, Dean's cheek resting against his brother's wildly beating heart.</p><p>Dean scrambled to his feet, hands jittery from the sudden closeness of Sam. He doubled over now, breathing hard. His body was screaming in alarm, every nerve firing.</p><p>"What the fuck was that."</p><p>Sam asked, rolling to his feet.</p><p>"I don't know, but it was fucking ugly."</p><p>Dean wheezed. He looked up, seeing the car. They had broken through no more than 10 feet from where they had gone in.</p><p>His head spun. This place was so damn confusing.</p><p>Sam was standing now, favoring his left side.</p><p>"I need a god damn drink."</p><p>He said, with a small writ of a smile.</p><p>Dean laughed, but the sentiment didn't quite connect. He chewed his lip in concentration.</p><p>Sam looked at Dean, how consumed in thought he was. He allowed his gaze to focus on the lip that was carefully bit between perfect teeth.</p><p>Those green eyes met him, and they stood, suspended in the absoluteness of this moment. Dean looked away, his own redness creeping above his collar.</p><p>An idea bloomed, a beguiling smirk pulling over Dean's lips.</p><p>"You know Sam, I have a better idea."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 4 Hours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This doesn't happen to Dean Winchester.</p><p>She was straddling his lap, delicate hands slipping under his shirt. They were so warm, skin baby smooth and she smelled like candy.</p><p>She was even kissing his neck, in that spot below his ear, the place that revved his engines and made him see stars.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>She pulled away, eyes concealed by thick black lashes.</p><p>"What the matter baby?"</p><p>She purred, pointedly rolling her hips.</p><p>He forced a smile, silently panicking.</p><p>"Am I pretty enough for you?"</p><p>She asked, nuzzling against his neck.</p><p>He reached up, unhooking her bra, hand sliding up to grasp the back of her neck.</p><p>"You know it, sweetheart."</p><p>He said, feigning confidence from his chest.</p><p>His fingers curled in her hair, pulling her head back. He playfully nipped her neck, a soft giggle bubbling from her lips.</p><p>"I like the sound of that."</p><p>He said gruffly, kissing up the soft expanse of her neck. She sighed, fingers digging into Dean's chest, nails scratching his skin.</p><p>"Do you want me, Daddy?"</p><p>She whispered against Dean's ear, goosebumps erupting over his arms, a shiver racing down his back.</p><p>"Fuck yeah I do."</p><p>She withdrew her hands, draping her arms over Dean's shoulders. She pressed her bare chest against his clothed one, her heat radiating through the fabric. She kissed him, tongue sliding into his mouth. He grabbed her petite waist, fingers twisting around lacy underwear.</p><p>"These needs to come off."</p><p>He growled against her mouth.</p><p>She slid from his lap, coming gracefully to her feet. Turning, she pressed against Dean's legs, black lace sliding against her pale skin. His eyes followed the panties to the floor only to race back up her long legs.</p><p>"Do you like?"</p><p>She asked, shaking her hips at him.</p><p>He nodded, hand reaching out to grab her round ass. She smacked him away, looking back at him. </p><p>"No touching."</p><p>Dean grinned.</p><p>On the outside, he could masquerade his delight, but truthfully nothing was working. On any other day, he would've had her pinned to the bed screaming his name. But today...</p><p>Still nothing.</p><p>She faced him now, sinking to her knees.</p><p>Dean's heart beat harder.</p><p>She squeezed the inside of his thigh, a sultry smile painted on her rosy lips. Nimble fingers loosened his belt, unbuttoned his jeans. She placed a stinging kiss on his hip, teeth gently biting at the skin.</p><p>Her hand ran between his legs.</p><p>She paused, a shadow of confusion cast over her face.</p><p>With a nervous laugh, he jumped to his feet.</p><p>"Um, I'll be right back."</p><p>He said, hurriedly shuttling to the bathroom.</p><p>Once he was behind the safety of the wooden door he let out a breath, one that he wasn't aware he had been holding.</p><p>He steadied himself on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection.</p><p>"Pull it together."</p><p>He whispered harshly, pointing at himself.</p><p>He looked down at his open pants, giving it a critical look.</p><p>"Why aren't you working?!"</p><p>He spat.</p><p>"She is so hot, what is wrong with you?"</p><p>He bargained.</p><p>"Dean?"</p><p>Came a muffled voice.</p><p>"One sec."</p><p>He offered back. He righted himself, taking a deep breath.</p><p>"I got this."</p><p>He reassured himself, giving his face a jaunty slap.</p><p>"That's better."</p><p>He said, shooting himself a wink.</p><p>He shrugged off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. With a swift pull, he swung open the door, leaning casually against the frame.</p><p>She let her gaze wander over his bare torso.</p><p>"I love your tattoo."</p><p>She said, stepping towards him. She let her finger delicately trace over the ink.</p><p>Dean wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed her, softly at first, his hand grazing over her cheek. His fingers tickled down her chin until they tightened around her throat and she smiled under Dean's lips.</p><p>"You like that huh?"</p><p>He whispered, green eyes searching her.</p><p>She nodded, her hands clawing on his lower back, sweet pain rippling across his skin. Her fingertips dipped into his jeans, inching them down.</p><p>He let them fall, fervently kissing along her jaw, her neck, biting her ear lobe, breath heavy against her skin.</p><p>She had gone rigid in his grasp, and he pulled back, looking to her.</p><p>"Are you okay?"</p><p>She pried, eyes narrowing.</p><p>"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"</p><p>He said with a grin.</p><p>She pointed.</p><p>Dean sighed hard.</p><p>"My bad. I, uh, I guess I'm not feeling up to this."</p><p>She stepped back, arms crossed over her breasts.</p><p>"So this isn't happening?"</p><p>She said bitterly.</p><p>Dean leaned down, pulling his jeans back on.</p><p>"Guess not."</p><p>She rolled her eyes, scoffing.</p><p>"Great."</p><p>She turned sharply, angrily snatching her underwear from the floor. She yanked them on, grabbing up her jeans.</p><p>"Oh come on, don't be like that."</p><p>He offered, hoping to smooth her raised hackles. Frankly, he wanted her out, his head swirled with so much confusion it felt like the entire room was spinning.</p><p>"Prick."</p><p>She muttered, throwing her shirt back on. She collected her bra, stuffing it into her purse.</p><p>"Have a good night."</p><p>Dean said, smiling.</p><p>Her answer was the slamming door.</p><p>Dean flopped onto the bed, a defeated sigh slipping from his lips. He stared abjectly at the ceiling, mind brooding.</p><p>He didn't know what was wrong. He felt fine, albeit his arm was throbbing.</p><p>Again.</p><p>Maybe he had come off the high of adrenaline and now he was just crashing.</p><p>Or he was hungry. Or tired.</p><p>All he knew was that he had felt the fire pooling in him as they went speeding away from those nightmarish woods, antsy as he dialed her number and he couldn't sit still while waiting for Sam at the Shell.</p><p>He remembered teasing Sam for wanting to skip a roll in the hay for a stiff one, something Dean now wishes he could say he had.</p><p>He watched Sam disappear into the Tavern and it felt as if someone had extinguished Dean, his mood falling mum.</p><p>He was sure of one thing though.</p><p>He needed a god damn drink.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Fatherland</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Can I get you another, baby?"</p><p>Jeanette asked, wiping down a murky pint glass. Sam covered his glass, giving her a soft smile.</p><p>He had asked for a double jack on the rocks, not a sucker punch to the liver.</p><p>She shrugged, softly humming to herself. The mechanical chime of the doorbell drew her attention, and her eyes illuminated, beaming like a child on Christmas morning.</p><p>"Well, how I live and breathe, sugar come on over here and let me pour you a drink!"</p><p>Sam glanced over his shoulder, seeing Dean saunter in.</p><p>He plopped down on the barstool, it sadly deflating under him. Sam swirled his drink, biting his cheek to stifle his smile.</p><p>"I didn't think I'd see you until tomorrow."</p><p>Dean gave him a forewarning glare.</p><p>"What can I get you?"</p><p>Jeanette purred, leaning towards him over the bar.</p><p>"Just a beer."</p><p>He said, sliding her a 5 dollar bill. She snatched it up, skipping away to the cooler.</p><p>Dean looked oddly defeated. And disturbed.</p><p>She pranced back, sitting it in front of him. Popping the top, it rattled around the resin bar. He stared dejectedly at it.</p><p>"Everything okay?"</p><p>Sam asked, nudging his side.</p><p>"It wouldn't get hard."</p><p>He mumbled.</p><p>Sam sat there, puzzled.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>He asked, a smile breaking through.</p><p>"It wouldn't get hard."</p><p>He bit, slightly louder than he had intended. A few inquisitive eyes turned to him and he tucked his head, blush creeping over his cheeks.</p><p>Sam laughed, a deep bellowing laugh that almost knocked him clean off his stool. Dean punched him, hard, on his thigh. Sam laughed harder, tears beading at his eyes.</p><p>"What the fuck!"</p><p>He snorted, hands clutching at his stomach.</p><p>Dean retreated farther into himself, wishing to be smaller than small. Jeanette slithered over, a smile aimed at Dean.</p><p>"Don't you worry baby, it happens every now and then."</p><p>She playfully swatted at his shoulder.</p><p>"Besides, a real woman can get it up any day of the week. You'll find one one day sweetie."</p><p>She stood, adjusting her sagging bosoms. Dean's face dropped in silent disgust.</p><p>Sam had tried to stop his laughter, but now it just came out in broken chuckles. Dean looked to him, begging him to ease up.</p><p>Dean felt suffocated. Sam with his laughing, and Jeanette with her flirting.</p><p>Well, what she thought was flirting.</p><p>He wished he could drop through the floor. Or send Sam to the moon. Either would suffice. He grabbed Sam's drink, throwing it back in one swallow. It burned like straight gasoline down his throat and bottomed out like lead in his stomach. His face pinched in pain, eyes watering from the intensity.</p><p>"Good God."</p><p>He wheezed, hacking softly. This brought a resurgence of Sam's laughter, but this time it wasn't room shaking and irritating. It was soft and it brought Dean back to when Sam was young, and he would laugh at the corniest of Dean's jokes, and no matter how mad he was, or stressed or hurting, it breathed a new life into his tired soul.</p><p>He smiled softly.</p><p>He grasped his sweating beer and took a hearty swig. It was bland compared to the pure octane he had just ingested, but it was smooth and it filled him with something other than the storm that was brewing in the murks of his mind.</p><p>Jeanette slid onto the stool next to Dean, resting her head against her hand.</p><p>"You know handsome, I get off in 5 minutes. What say we go grab a drink and see where the night takes us"</p><p>Dean wasn't sure if that warranted a response.</p><p>"Jeanette leave that poor boy alone."</p><p>Sang a voice. She turned sharply, her thin lips pursing.</p><p>"Well hello, Ingrid."</p><p>She said with contempt.</p><p>Sam looked up, his heart stalling. She walked in, gliding across the cheap carpet. He wasn't sure if she was lost, or just passing through, but he knew for sure that she didn't belong here, in this place.</p><p>Her legs were never-ending, slim but toned. She wore tight jeans, gently faded with wear and a black cropped tank top that clung to svelte curves.</p><p>He couldn't deny how striking she was.</p><p>She slid behind the bar, tying an apron around her waist. Dean didn't really acknowledge her. He sent her an obligatory smile that quickly faded.</p><p>She scrapped her pale blonde hair into a hazardous pile on top of her head, and she smiled at Sam.</p><p>She had nice lips, as pink as the first tulips of spring.</p><p>Her eyes held Sam. They were blue, Icy and bright, gently shining in the low light of the chandelier.</p><p>"Can I get you another?"</p><p>She asked Sam, clearing his empty glass.</p><p>"Sure, Jack on the rocks. Neat."</p><p>She winked.</p><p>"You got it."</p><p>As she busied, Jeanette linked her arm around Dean's, leaning against him.</p><p>"What do you say? Huh, I've been looking for a good time around this stuffy town."</p><p>Ingrid slid Sam his glass, crossing her slender arms.</p><p>"Jeanette, let him be. Can't you see that something is on his mind?"</p><p>She smiled</p><p>"I'm hoping that it's me."</p><p>Ingrid stared at her, eyes narrowing. Jeanette dropped Dean's arm, Swiping her hand in the air, hissing.</p><p>"Meow miss thing."</p><p>She slid off her stool, plopping her apron in a wrinkled heap on the counter.</p><p>"Good luck doll. He likes more mature women. Not ditsy Euro-trash."</p><p>Ingrid laughed softly.</p><p>"And I'm sure he doesn't want to be robbing the coffin either."</p><p>Sam's face dropped.</p><p>She scoffed, turning on her heel, stomping out without so much as another longing glance back to Dean. He gripped his beer, slamming it.</p><p>After a moment he drew an exasperated breath.</p><p>"Another, please. And a shower."</p><p>She laughed a bright bubbling laugh.</p><p>"No problem."</p><p>She handed over the beer and produced a rag to wipe down the counter. Sam leaned forward.</p><p>"So where are you from?"</p><p>He asked, finger circling the rim of his glass.</p><p>"About 8 blocks from here"</p><p>She teased, meeting Sam's gaze.</p><p>"I'm actually from Munich. Moved here 7 months ago to care for my aunt."</p><p>Dean smirked.</p><p>"So you're a German babe in the middle of cousin fuck Utah. How did I get so lucky?"</p><p>She stopped, hand perched on her hip.</p><p>"I like this one."</p><p>She motioned with her towel.</p><p>Sam couldn't drop his gaze. She was deceptively beautiful, flawless ivory skin almost glowing against the dark backdrop of the bar. And those God Damned eyes.</p><p>Dean slid a steadying hand over Sam's knee, palm warm and fingers strong. Sam froze, his attention fumbling. Dean gave him a firm squeeze and it fell away, Dean offering him a wayward smirk.</p><p>"We close the tavern down in about an hour, just a heads up."</p><p>She lilted, coming around the counter to tend to a shivering couple standing in reception.</p><p>Dean turned to Sam.</p><p>"Dude you are being fucking creepy."</p><p>Sam shrugged, sloshing his whiskey.</p><p>"She just so..."</p><p>"Out of your league? Yeah, I know. But tone it down there Freakazoid or you're going to scare her off."</p><p>Dean sipped his beer, giving Sam a wink. He rolled his eyes.</p><p>"What did I miss?"</p><p>She said, sliding in next to Sam. He shrugged.</p><p>"Not much."</p><p>She giggled, her hand resting against Sam's forearm. Dean rolled his eyes, turning away from them.</p><p>"It's been a long night, I think I'm going to turn in. You kids have fun."</p><p>He stood, adjusting his jacket. He handed Ingrid a 50 and gave her a soft smile.</p><p>"Keep em coming for my kid brother will ya?"</p><p>She grasped it in between black manicured fingers.</p><p>"You got it, boss."</p><p>She said, saluting him. He clasped Sam on the shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam's skin buzzed, unsure from which hand that had laid there.</p><p>She turned her gaze to him, eyes settling over his handsome face.</p><p>"So tell me about yourself."</p><p>She cooed. He extended his hand.</p><p>"I'm Sam. My brother and I are in town on business."</p><p>She took his hand in hers, fingers delicate.</p><p>"Nice to meet you, Sam, from out of town."</p><p>He smiled. she pulled her arm back, a black flash catching Sam's attention.</p><p>There was a large tattoo on the inside of her bicep, scrawling over her white skin. He felt confusion settle over him. How hadn't he noticed that before?"</p><p>"Nice tattoo."</p><p>He said, taking a sip. Her face brightened, and she turned her arm outward, putting it into full view.</p><p>"Thank you, It's a nice reminder of my homeland."</p><p>It was a great stag, antlers branching up over her shoulder, her back. It's frozen eyes black and beady, smoldering into Sam as he stared. He followed every bold line, eyes tracing the massive thing and he felt an unsettling urge that it was indeed following him too.</p><p>He met her eyes again, and they seemed different. The swirled with manic energy, displaced by her quaint smile. It was as if they were trying to hypnotize him, pull his head under uncertain waves.</p><p>He looked down, mind focusing on the rich amber of his Jack confined in the crystal walls  of the glass.</p><p>"Could I get you another?"</p><p>She whispered against his ear, hand sliding up the sleeve of his shirt, fingers suddenly icy against his hot skin.</p><p>"No, it's okay."</p><p>He said, offering a subtle smile.</p><p>She stood, withdrawing her hand, fingers burning white-hot as they trailed down his arm.</p><p>"If you say so, Sam from out of town."</p><p>He sat quietly, nursing his warm drink. She stared at him through the mirrored back of the bar, eyes following every twitch of his lip, blink of an eye.</p><p>He didn't like those eyes on him any longer.</p><p>They were alone, kept company by the crackling lounge music that lilted from overhead. His leg bounced with unease, trying to figure out how he could slip away.</p><p>"Last call."</p><p>She said, setting down two glasses. She poured a shot in each, dark liquor pooling. Sam felt an uneasy quiver, it was too dark. Too rich. She slid it towards him, holding hers expectantly.</p><p>"To my new friend Sam."</p><p>She said, holding her shot to him. He toasted her, a faltering grin. He knocked back the shot, it running hotly down.</p><p>It wasn't like anything he'd had before. It was decadent but sour. An instant craving for the whole bottle. Those dangerous eyes glimmered.</p><p>He stood, dispensing a few dollar bills under his empty glass.</p><p>"It was nice meeting you, Ingrid."</p><p>"You as well, Sam. Let's do this again sometime eh?"</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>"Soon."</p><p>She watched him, shrouded in animosity behind the dimming lights. He brushed through the door, the sudden cold jarring him.</p><p>It had started to snow, the wind carrying it in drifts along the sidewalk. It clung to his skin, sizzling away. It gathered in his hair, on his eyelashes.</p><p>It wasn't a downy cold, one that made you want to curl up in bed and lie there all day. No, this was bitter. Ice cutting through your veins and wind that burned against your skin.</p><p>With a hesitance, he glanced back over his shoulder. The Tavern was dark, just like the night.</p><p>He let out a deeply held sigh of relief.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Leather and Lace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean could knock Sam and his attitude out. There was something about being forced indoors that drove Sam up the wall, much to Dean's expense.</p><p>It had started this morning when they woke to find the snowdrifts obscuring the entire landscape. It was bad enough that the front end of the Impala was covered in a thick white blanket, the sky angrily hurling fat flakes.</p><p>And this afternoon, when Sam had flipped through the same 12 local TV channels, that he loudly exclaimed how bored he was.</p><p>He even went as far as to poke at Dean, for which he got his giant ass laid out on that disgusting carpet, and then he retreated to pout in solidarity for 45 minutes.</p><p>45 blissful minutes.</p><p>Now he was rattling the flimsy bathroom door, begging Dean to hurry up before the water heater shit out and he was left to take an ice bath.</p><p>Dean turned up the music, Coheed and Cambria drowning out Sam's whiny demands.</p><p>The hot spray of water felt heavenly against Dean's chilled skin, it running over his back. It felt nice to be alone, warm and confined in the small constraints of the shower stall.</p><p>He let out a sigh of relief, muscles releasing from the tension of his day.</p><p>Sam jiggled the knob again, Dean's eyes fluttered in annoyance.</p><p>"Sam I swear to God."</p><p>Another rattle.</p><p>"I will come out and beat your ass naked!"</p><p>Sam bickered through the door, muffled.</p><p>He heard his brother lumber away, smiling to himself. He leaned his head back, the hot water cascading over his cheeks.</p><p>The piddly bathroom lights wavered twice before completely cutting out.</p><p>"Fucking fantastic."</p><p>Growled Dean.</p><p>Sam carefully rapped on the door, waiting for Dean's reply.</p><p>"Dude come on, I don't know how much longer we'll have hot water."</p><p>Dean thought for a moment, sighing with contempt. He leaned out of the warm embrace and fumbled with the door lock, barely popping the door open for Sam.</p><p>He stepped in, bringing a rush of cool air that prickled against Dean's skin. Sam stood awkwardly, waiting for Dean to step out.</p><p>"What are you waiting for, your formal invitation?"</p><p>Dean griped, arms angrily crossed over his broad chest.</p><p>"Get your lame ass in here or I will use all of it"</p><p>It wasn't the first time they had to do this, and Dean knew it wouldn't be the last.</p><p>They hung in silence for a moment, until he heard Sam's belt loosen, and the soft thud of his shirt dropping to the floor. Dean found himself staring into the darkness, trying to find the outline of Sam.</p><p>Another gust of cold air billowed around Dean as Sam stepped in.</p><p>He was startled by the capacity of Sam. He wasn't an awkward 13 year old, trying in vain to conceal himself from Dean, embarrassment painted over his body. No, he was a man now. Well defined, tall and he made the space that valleyed between them dissipate now.</p><p>"I never meant to be so bad to you. One thing that I said that I would never do..."</p><p>Dean grinned.</p><p>"Hey Sammy, it's your favorite song."</p><p>He could feel the eye roll.</p><p>Sam hunkered in the corner, just out of reach of the warmth's touch. He was trying to maintain his breadth around Dean, careful not to fall too close.</p><p>"You just gonna stand there and watch me you perv."</p><p>Dean jibed, hands unabashedly shielding his nipples.</p><p>"You make me feel so dirty."</p><p>He cracked, laughing at Sam's discomfort. Dean flicked the water at Sam, drops misting against warm skin. Sam flinched at the sensation.</p><p>"Do you remember when we used to dance? and incident arose from circumstance..."</p><p>Dean stepped back, urging Sam forward. Sam stepped under the spray, the drop of his shoulders setting Dean at ease.</p><p>Sam scraped long fingers through his wet hair, it falling into his face. Chills ran up Dean's spine, and he was sure it wasn't from the fleeting warmth ghosting off of his skin.</p><p>He reached out, letting the water run over his hand, falling between his fingers. He could feel Sam watching him, their eyes meeting in the fragile darkness.</p><p>They were closer now, space slipping away without intention.</p><p>"It was the Heat of the moment, telling me what your heart meant..."</p><p>Dean reached around him, fingers leaving an Icy blaze across Sam's wet skin as he fumbled for the body wash.</p><p>Sam consumed his head space, his scent wrapping Dean in a blanket of safe comfort. He loved the way Sam smelled.</p><p>It was always woody, like a thicket of forest after heavy rainfall. And coffee and sun-warmed books. It was a feeling of Home.</p><p>Sam cleared his throat, and suddenly that wide expanse was back, and Dean felt a fleeting rush of sadness.</p><p>Dean let Sam wash quickly, trying to leave him some privacy.</p><p>Sam quickly slipped from the shower, his heart racing wildly. He wrapped a towel around his waist, still dripping onto the vinyl floor. He whisked himself out of the bathroom, leaving Dean alone with his stirring mind, among other things.</p><p>Sam's hands were shaking. Not from fear. No, it was more like sheer excitement. And uncertainty. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to catch his breath.</p><p>Dean was so close, warm hands grazing against Sam's skin. It still burned, where he had been touched. Sam laid his hand over his hip, eyes fluttering shut.</p><p>He wanted the feeling of Dean's hands on him again.</p><p>A rush blew through him, skin tingling and senses stirring. A dark thought paraded through his mind.</p><p>He wanted more than Dean's accidental touch and disconnected glances. He wanted his attention, full and undivided.</p><p>And he wanted it badly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Red Flannel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The golden light of dawn peered through the gauzy curtains. It washed over Dean's sleeping figure, stretching delicately over his exposed torso. His chest rose softly as sweet breaths brushed past his parted lips. Sam drew in every delicious curve of Dean's body, watching as the sheets clung over every valley, trying (and failing) to cover his manhood.</p><p>He had a muscular arm strewn over his face, the other resting against his hip, hand concealed under the blanket.</p><p>Sam sat on the edge of the bed, clutching a lukewarm cup of coffee. His hair was messed from another night of tossing and turning, restless movement.</p><p>His mind had raced with the constant thoughts of Dean. How easy it would be to slip into that bed, under the covers beside him. And how the black eye he would receive would only hurt for about a week. Sam smiled.</p><p>Worth it.</p><p>He stood, back arching in sweet delight as he stretched, fingertips barely missing the slowly rotating ceiling fan. He set his cup on the shoddy desk, rooting through the bags for a shirt.</p><p>Dean stirred, turning to his side. Sam watched in anticipation as the papery sheets slid down his hip, settling dangerously low. He bit the inside of his lip, shaking away the impending thoughts.</p><p>He slid a tee-shirt over his head.</p><p>"Hmhhm Sam."</p><p>He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.</p><p>Dean was clutching his pillow, it held tightly against his chest. His lips silently worked, soft whispers falling from that delectable mouth.</p><p>"Sam, come back."</p><p>His face drew together in concern, fingers curling into the soft folds of the pillow.</p><p>Just slide into that warm expanse of bed. Sam thought. </p><p>Hands coming to caress Dean's troubled face. Lips...</p><p>"Good Morning, Sam"</p><p>He jumped, turning to face Castiel.</p><p>"Jesus Cas. Why didn't you just knock?"</p><p>He raked a shaking hand through his hair, willing away that last thought. Castiel stood, gently swaying in his sustained silence.</p><p>"It is early, I didn't want to disturb you."</p><p>Sam crossed defensive arms over his chest.</p><p>"I need to speak to Dean."</p><p>He said, peering around Sam.</p><p>"Good luck trying to wake him up."</p><p>Sam chuckled. He dropped his sweats, pulling on a pair of fresh jeans. Castiel turned away, awkwardly scratching his side.</p><p>It was humorous how Castiel was still genuinely uncomfortable with the aspects of human life. He winced when they would overindulge, cringed at their general promiscuity. And nudity really freaked him out. Dean liked to push the boundaries on that.</p><p>"Cas,"</p><p>Dean asked voice thickened with drowsy bliss. He sat up, eyes squinted in the harsh morning sun.</p><p>"What time is it?"</p><p>He asked, yawning.</p><p>"It is 9:31"</p><p>Castiel commented.</p><p>Dean slid from the comfort of his sheets, slipping out of bed.</p><p>"What in the actual fuck is this."</p><p>He moaned, pulling on the scratchy pajamas.</p><p>Castiel smiled at them.</p><p>"You were indecent. I fixed that for you."</p><p>Sam chortled, Dean glared daggers.</p><p>He looked down in disgust. They were dark red and flannel. Dean felt like he was about to burst into flames. They were so rough against his skin He felt like he was shrouded in a blazing paper sack.</p><p>That's when he realized.</p><p>They were God Damned footie Pajamas.</p><p>"Cas. Are you fucking kidding me? I'll kill you."</p><p>He said, pointing exasperatedly at the angel.</p><p>"Always here to help you, Dean."</p><p>Sam laughed, shooting Dean a casual smile.</p><p>Dean was furious. Castiel knew that red wasn't his color and that footie pajama's only looked cute if you're roughly 2 years old.</p><p>Sam, however, looked good. He wore those dark jeans that made his legs look a mile long, and a grey tee-shirt that hugged his arms in all the right ways. He had his flannel rolled to his elbows, shaggy hair tousled, messy pieces falling into his face.</p><p>Dean forced himself to look away.</p><p>Castiel stood between the brothers now, head swaying from Sam to Dean. His eyes were narrowed, studying them. Sam turned, shielding his face from Castiel's intrusive stares.</p><p>Dean was fidgeting with the buttons on the pajamas, a sputtering stream of curses was directed towards the angel. He managed to undo the top three, the garment dropping limply, hanging dangerously low on his hips.</p><p>"Are you trying to roast me you raging dick?"</p><p>Sam had started to sweat too, beading around the collar of his shirt.</p><p>They had cranked the heat before they had turned in for the evening, the cold creeping in slowly from the impending ice age outside.</p><p>Sam crossed the floor, switching the thermostat off when he noticed the golden rays of sun splitting through the curtains.</p><p>He pulled them back, jarred by the landscape.</p><p>The sun was shining brightly over budding trees and lush waving grass. The lilac bush in front of the window was ripe with full open blooms, and birds swept through the crystal blue sky in harmonious flocks.</p><p>This wasn't right.</p><p>The land should be barren and stark, bleak dead trees jagged against dull grey skies. Instead, spring was in a full furling bloom.</p><p>Sam looked back to them, wonder stricken across their faces.</p><p>"What is going on in this town?"</p><p>He breathed, glancing out the window.</p><p>"That is what I wanted to talk to you about."</p><p>Sam looked at Castiel, a stern concentration settled over him now.</p><p>"Whatever this is, it's not of man. We have rarely seen it since the creation of time. It is extraordinarily powerful yet we know little about it."</p><p>Dean looked at Sam.</p><p>"And what is it exactly?"</p><p>He asked.</p><p>"It doesn't have a name. It's most closely related to what is known as a Shape Shifter and a Skin Walker. It has the ability to pass through suitable forms and can control natural forces."</p><p>"So like the weather?"</p><p>Dean asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.</p><p>"Precisely."</p><p>Sam had begun to pace, mind circling.</p><p>"What are the odds that we've already crossed it?"</p><p>Castiel shrugged.</p><p>"In its favorable form, more than likely many times. It's true form, well that could depend."</p><p>Dean snorted.</p><p>"Trust me, we've already run into that ugly fucker."</p><p>He reached over, grabbing his phone.</p><p>"I'll call Bobby and see what he's got. Later we can go back to the park, trace back all the places that they went missing. See what we can find."</p><p>Sam shook his head.</p><p>"No, I'll go now. Maybe the daylight will offer us something more. Dean, you and Cas get ahold of Bobby, maybe poke around town and see what you can dig up."</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>Sam looked at Dean, eyes trailing down his bare chest. He knew he couldn't let himself linger, not with Castiel there. Those tantalizing green eyes settled on him, urging him to meet them. They held their gaze, just for a second, and Dean looked away. The smallest turn of a smile on his mouth.</p><p>Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala and promised Dean that he would check back in a few hours.</p><p>He slipped through the door, into the comfort of the spring day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Bruja</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weather turned people out in droves. Sam had circled the parking lot twice before giving up and parking alongside the highway.</p><p>The sky was a striking crystal blue, not even dregs of clouds clung to the edges. The mountains jutted against the blue backdrop, the last trails of snow perched on their rocky heads. Bristling pine trees grew thick in the valleys of the park, birds whistling throughout.</p><p>A Khaki clad Park Ranger stood at the gate, smiling at those that passed by. Sam noticed the .357 saddled on his hip.</p><p>With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he crowded into the park behind a soccer mom and her 5 kids. He procured a map from a weathered Smokey Bear cut out, it's wooden body leering over Sam.</p><p>There were so many people, running, biking, frolicking. So many to just slip away without a trace.</p><p>The bounce of a blonde ponytail caught Sam's attention.</p><p>She trotted down the main path, the one that had been blocked off two nights prior. Where had that massive tree gone? He looked at the path inquisitively. There was no way it had simply disappeared, especially with the blizzard that had suffocated over the town.</p><p>He began after her, stalling behind other pedestrians, keeping his distance. Her long hair whipped around her shoulders, pale skin gleaming in the warm sunlight. Sam drew in closer, his shroud of safety dissipating with each step.</p><p>Suddenly, she stopped, head tilting in quiet concern. She pulled her headphones from her ears, eyes narrowing in concentration.</p><p>He could see it, weaving in between the overgrown blooming weeds, the heads softly bristling. It poked it's head into view, those eyes sapphires against the pale yellow of the flowers.</p><p>Sam grabbed her arms, her head snapping around in fright.</p><p>"Sam, you scared me!"</p><p>She said, shrugging away his hand.</p><p>The deer had scurried away, darting back into the underbrush.</p><p>"Ingrid, hey. Sorry I didn't mean to scare you."</p><p>She perched her hands on her slender hips, fingers caustically tapping.</p><p>"Having a good run?"</p><p>He asked nervously, hands stuck in pockets. A sheepish pallor washed over her.</p><p>"Uh, yes I was. I thought I saw something though."</p><p>She wiped her brow, face glistening with sweat.</p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>Sam pushed.</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>"It was nothing, just the flowers."</p><p>She said motioning towards the thicket. She looked at her watch, brows rising in concern.</p><p>"Shit, I need to run before I'm late."</p><p>She reached out, squeezing Sams' arm.</p><p>"Nice seeing you again, Sam."</p><p>She said, smiling.</p><p>"You too."</p><p>He said, offering her a friendly smile.</p><p>She trotted off, quickly disappearing into the swarm of tourists. Sam watched until he couldn't see the glow of her neon leggings, and his attention turned to the thicket.</p><p>There was a sparse trail winding through the brush, concealed enough to the naked eyes, but still discernible.</p><p>Sam peered around as he slipped into the hands of the trees.</p><p>The path wound down the mountain, about a quarter-mile from the main trail. As he trudged through the spiny branches and coarse foliage, he noticed the quieting of his surroundings. There seemed to be fewer birds now, every once in awhile a sullen chirp would reverberate through the spindly trees.</p><p>He felt it again, that dense, walloping cold that clenched its icy fist around his chest. He stopped, surveying that around him. From what he could tell, the only way you could slip through the forest  now is if you were small, tiny enough to weave through the brambles and interlocked roots that snarled from the ground.</p><p>There was however an opening, about a foot and a half tall, at the base of a billowing cypress tree. Sam hesitated for a second.</p><p>He could continue down this increasingly narrow and rock riddled trail, or he could wedge his giant frame through that gopher hole and end up...</p><p>Well, he wasn't exactly for sure where he would end up.</p><p>"Oh fuck."</p><p>He breathed as he shrugged off his backpack. He crammed it through the opening of the hole, the disparaging blackness oddly welcoming.</p><p>Dropping to the ground, he crawled flat on his belly, dragging himself through the cool substrate. The rough bark of the tree hugged against his hips, dirt crudding under his nails. He strained against the sick dirt, groveling to break from this crushing confinement.</p><p>He slithered out the other side, clothes laden with dirt and moss. He swiped it away best he could, retrieving his bag. He stood on the other side of a creek, its gentle trickling water carelessly bubbling across smooth stones. He could hear the bustle of the tourists, their sound lilting over the treetops. He figured he couldn't be more than 400 yards from them now.</p><p>He was closer to the mountains now, breaching against the boundaries of the hospitable park ground.</p><p>It was overgrown and wild here, weeds and wildflowers snaking up taller than Sam. The face of the mountains was marred against the hands of time, sheer rock chiseled away. There was a jagged break against the base of the plateau, large enough for someone to pass through.</p><p>Inside the cave was cool and damp, fragments of light passing in behind Sam. He withdrew his flashlight, concentrated light sliding along the walls.</p><p>It was dark, his hands feeling impishly along smooth rock.</p><p>The path was winding, twisting sending Sam blindly deeper into the mountain.</p><p>He came to an impasse, forced off to the left. Something told him that it wasn't a good idea, but curiosity carried himself forward.</p><p>The smell crept up on him fast, sour and stinging his nose. He shielded his face in the cotton of his tee-shirt, sucking in the damp acrid air. The air seemed heavier, compressing on his shoulders. The rocky ceiling was elevated, as he shuffled down the decline of the trail.</p><p>The clacking of pebbles falling on the stone floor startled him, and he slid, falling fast into the dark abyss of the cavern. He came to a crashing halt, skin chiding against rough rock.</p><p>He rubbed his tender lower back, rolling to his knees.</p><p>He had landed on a beaten pile of leaves and decimated twigs, rotting white petals strewn over the makeshift cot. A half decomposed squirrel lay torn apart at his feet.</p><p>It was a large open room, echoing walls arching overhead. There was a soft wail, carefully rolling off the ceiling.</p><p>Sam glanced around, peering into the dark crevices of the cave. There was a heap of soiled bloodied clothing, fabric shredded to ribbons. A gruesome trail of mottled blonde hair laid out like twisted breadcrumbs.</p><p>Sam's face twisted in disgust, the smell choking his lungs. A deep rotting aroma, flaying in his chest like a wicked, wicked fire. Tears clawed at his eyes, the stench burning them. There were bones, some picked clean, others left with a bounty that he stepped over, the insects swarming over the scraps of tissue.</p><p>Sam pulled his phone from his pocket, clutching it tightly. He couldn't call Dean, couldn't call anyone actually. He was defenseless, exposed to whatever was lurking in his shadows. That's when the panic set in, laboring his breaths.</p><p>Help me.</p><p>Sam flinched, gun drawn at the intrusion. It came from below, just under his feet.</p><p>He poked cold steel down the walk, it's chilling gleam the only light. Carefully he crept down the path, worried stone sturdy beneath him, the stairs labored by heavy steps.</p><p>They were suspended in the middle of the clearing, two girls dangling helplessly in front of him now. his heart stammered, the magnitude of their disposition all-consuming.</p><p>One was dead, stiff from rigor, skin peeling back from melting muscle, bones bowing under her dead weight. Soulless eyes stared back at Sam, gray irises lulling at his feet.</p><p>It was the other that scared him.</p><p>"Don't hurt me."</p><p>She breathed, voice barely sustained from her emaciation.</p><p>Sam hurried to her, mind racing.</p><p>She hung, wrists bloodied from her ill-fitting restraints, rusting iron digging into warm flesh. Her forearms were slathered in black bruises, the tension ripping apart her veins. Tears ran down her dirtied cheeks, white hair shoddily dyed red from her drying blood.</p><p>She was naked, save for a pair of running shorts, clinging on by a desperate thread.</p><p>Her left leg was grossly contorted, snapped midway down her shin, the bone nastily edging through her flayed skin.</p><p>"I'm here to help you."</p><p>He whispered, hands running up her arms, fingers uselessly pulling on the shackles. After a few sturdy yanks, the chain gave retaliation with a groan.</p><p>"Just hold on."</p><p>He reassured her, tearing through his bag. He dumped out the contents, rifling for his lock picks. Securing them, he rushed to her, her soft sobs soaking into his chest.</p><p>"How long have you been here?"</p><p>He asked, working the old lock mechanism.</p><p>"I think a week."</p><p>She croaked.</p><p>Her ribs jabbed into him, her stomach concave. She hadn't eaten in at least 12 days, skin waxy and eyes yellowed from jaundice. The disturbance of her open wounds produced new blood, It viscous and black against Sam's fingers.</p><p>With a yank she dropped down against him, teeth biting down on his shoulder to muffle her terrified scream.</p><p>He laid her down, shrugging off his flannel. He draped it around her shoulders, offering her a sliver of privacy. Rooting through the tattered remains of clothing, he produced a ragged piece of a tee shirt.</p><p>"This is going to hurt."</p><p>He whispered.</p><p>He tightened the fabric around her leg, her head rolling back as she flew between consciousness and death. His tourniquet would hold for now, but she hung on the precipice of life.</p><p>He gathered her into his arms, her face pressed hotly into his neck.</p><p>"I'm going to get you out of here okay?"</p><p>She nodded, tears coming fiercely now.</p><p>"Just hold on."</p><p>The terrified hammer of her heart was a relief to Sam. She wanted to live, desperately at that.</p><p>He knew that he couldn't carry her back up the caverns trail, it was too risky, and he surely couldn't cram her through a filthy fox hole.</p><p>The rushing of water intrigued Sam. It came from the West of where they were standing. There had to be an inlet close to them, one that he could follow back up to the main trail.</p><p>It was worth a chance.</p><p>She held his shirt tightly in her hands, broken nails scratching at his back as he fumbled through the cave, the shallow luster of light a beacon of hope just ahead of him.</p><p>He broke through the wall of the mountain, sunlight harsh against his skin.</p><p>He was standing at the bottom of the trail, where he had come in. He hadn't seen the opening when he had stopped Ingrid before.</p><p>Terrified eyes set on him, a scream striking through the air.</p><p>"I need help over here!"</p><p>He yelled, people gathering around them. Two rangers broke through the crowd, radio's squabbling loudly.</p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>He laid her down, her body shivering violently.</p><p>"I was just hiking down the trail and got turned around off the main path and I heard her. She was lying in a clearing. She might've fallen."</p><p>One of them propped her head up with their jacket, fingers taking her thin wrist, searching for her pulse.</p><p>"She's dropping quick."</p><p>He said, voice low.</p><p>She was looking at Sam now, finger lifting for him to come closer. He knelt beside her, taking her hand. She was mouthing at him, no power to drive her words.</p><p>Thank you.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Asleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rain shuddered across the roof, pounding down like pennies on tin. Sam slumped over a stack of leather-bound books, the shaky green light of the desk lamp illuminated over the weathered pages. He was alone with the rich, yet sparse, history of this town.</p><p>There were only 6 books of historic rhetoric available to him. The towns register and original settlement papers were locked away in a finger smudged cabinet, paper too fragile to ever be handled. He had, however, managed to charm a pathetically flimsy photo album from the caring hands of the librarian.</p><p>His head was caught in a dizzying spin. The pages bled together, one nonsensical sentence after another, forming foreign paragraphs for which Sam couldn't decipher.</p><p>He rubbed his tired eyes with defeat.</p><p>There was no end to this twisted path. He realized that they might have to just throw the towel in on this one and leave that...thing to the wind. He didn't want to, conscious warring over those souls suspended in the choking darkness of the cave.</p><p>Dean didn't have a clue, and Sam was quickly losing any momentum that they had garnered. Their last glimmer of hope was hanging on by threads in the ICU of the county hospital. Even if she made it, the chance of her recounting that nightmare was dismal at best.</p><p>He quietly tapped the end of his pen against the water wrinkled pages of the textbook, mind racing. He stood, the legs of his stout wooden chair screeching against the bowed wooden floors.</p><p>He beamed a sheepish smile over the disparaging scowl he received.</p><p>He brushed past the towering jaunt of the oak bookcases and stepped into the hazy embrace of the corridor. A moth lazily fluttered around a yellowed sconce, its shade off-center. A thick fur of dust settled in every crevice, a grey pallor dashing over the scene.</p><p>It felt haunted.</p><p>The muffled chime of Sam's phone disrupted the eerie euphoria of the room.</p><p>"Please tell me you found something good?"</p><p>Dean's laugh was disheartening.</p><p>"Yeah, a Playboy from 1997 and a petrified bottle of cheese whiz."</p><p>Sam grimaced.</p><p>"Ew, nasty."</p><p>"Dude, I'm telling you. This fucking town is weird. They don't keep records past 2015 down here."</p><p>"That's...really fucking weird."</p><p>"What about you, Library turn up anything fun?"</p><p>Sam chuckled.</p><p>"No, just a shitty secondhand town biography and a photo album from the '50s. Dean, I really don't know where to turn from here. Do you think..."</p><p>There was a thud, a deep resounding vibration that rocked the floor. The sound of something heavy falling against the floor.</p><p>"What the fuck?"</p><p>Sam said under his breath, eyes narrowed.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Asked Dean.</p><p>"Something just fell over."</p><p>"Oh, well let me call Venkman to come get your scary library ghost."</p><p>Dean snorted. Sam rolled his eyes.</p><p>"And don't roll your eyes at me, princess,"</p><p>An abysmal stream of light filtered through the cracked transom across the hall, offering a lit beacon to the heavy door it sat upon.</p><p>"I'll call you back."</p><p>He breathed, quickly hanging up.</p><p>This door didn't fit in this hall. It was painted black, and it stood almost a foot taller than all the others. It had a tarnished brass handle, and flaking gold paint stenciled across the middle. It was too dilapidated to read, but it held Sam's attention.</p><p>He approached it, warmth creeping under his collar.</p><p>Reaching out, he placed his hand on the cold metal handle.</p><p>The door was stuck, jamb swollen from years of sweltering humidity. He dropped a shoulder against the thick wood, its hinges squealing in protest.</p><p>Another hard shove and it swung open, sending Sam forward. He stumbled over his feet, steadying himself against a rust addled file cabinet.</p><p>It was stuffy in here, the stagnant smell of mothballs bowled over him. The tile floor was tacky, yellowed by years of feet that had danced across it. The items were neatly stacked, pushed into the shaded corners of the room. In the center hunkered a sheeted entity, obscuring Sam. He reached out, pulling on the dusty fabric.</p><p>It fell to the floor with ease, revealing the nightmare underneath. Sam jumped back, hands scrambling for the gun that wasn't there.</p><p>It was a brown bear, lurched forward on its solid wood mount. The fur of it face peeled back to reveal a horrifying plastic skeleton. If Dean were here, he would've said something stupid, how it looked like the terminator.</p><p>He wiped shaking hands against his jeans, a nervous smile breaking his mouth.</p><p>Pulled over by a dead bear.</p><p>He squeezed past it, sturdy thing gently rocking on its pedestal.</p><p>This room was suddenly cavernous, shelves reaching up to the ceiling, crammed full of weathered paper and threading books. The putrid stank of mothballs was slowly being washed over by old leather and ink.</p><p>A stack of wooden crates held his interest, faded white writing stenciled on the rough planks. He ran his fingers along the pitted valleys of the crate, nails catching against the rusted nail heads jutting up from the lid. He knew that if he tried to open then, they would splinter into shards.</p><p>His eyes fell upon a leaned over bookshelf, shelves sloping dangerously from the over piled boxes. There were quite a few plain white file boxes, each messily scribbled with sharpie. He flipped open a lid, the box packed full of Manila folders hastily scrubbed with names.</p><p>Police reports.</p><p>Why the hell would they be stashed in some dingy closet of the town library?</p><p>He quickly thumbed through the files, nothing interesting snapping out at him. He moved the boxes, rifling through mundane noise complaints and parking tickets.</p><p>As he moved the last box, a plastic avalanche fell onto his feet. The side of a herniated cardboard box collapsed, spilling out a pile of microfiche cases. He leaned over, carefully rifling through the stained plastic cassettes.</p><p>Grabbing a file box, he dumped the remnants on the ground, the papers scattering at his feet. He grabbed the cassettes, tossing them into the box. With it safely tucked under his arm, he retreated.</p><p>He let that heavy door swing shut behind him.</p><p>If they had the microfiche, then the reader must be tucked away. He didn't understand why they were stashed away, caught in the hands of time in that horrid little closet.</p><p>To his right, there was a staircase that descended into the darkness of what he assumed was the basement. His intuition told him that that was as good as ever place to start. He jaunted down the stairs, footsteps muffled by the old trampled carpet.</p><p>He came to stand in a lobby, this one more decrepit than the one upstairs.</p><p>It felt older.</p><p>The satin wallpaper peeled from the yellowing walls. Crystal straps hung broken from the flickering chandelier. Ceiling tall cabinets sat barren, shelves sitting cracked and warped.</p><p>He wandered around the empty room, trying to find signs of any previous life. Nestled away in the deepest corner of the room sat a small desk.</p><p>Bingo.</p><p>He approached it, setting down the box. With a whisk, he yanked away the dusty cover of the machine. It settled around him, a dry cough breaking from his chest. He switched on the machine and it sputtered to life, casting a pale gleam over him.</p><p>He sat there, carefully studying the articles. Frustration set over him, as he was met with the same results of his earlier research.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"Damn it."</p><p>He muttered.</p><p>As he went to exchange the slide, it jammed. With a few fruitful tugs, it had refused to move. He set his elbows against the desk and yanked, flailing backward in his chair. His knees slammed into the bottom of the desk, hands scrambling. He landed with a hard crash, a small groan emitted from his lips.</p><p>"That sucked."</p><p>He griped as he stood, righting the chair.</p><p>He ripped the slide from the display, tossing it onto the floor. It came to rest at his feet, next to another cassette. He furrowed his brow. He picked it up, studying it.</p><p>He must've dislodged it when he fell, knocking it from it's hiding place. He withdrew the slide and slipped it into the machine.</p><p>It was a newspaper article about the inaugural ribbon cutting of City Hall, dated April 11th, 1905. Amongst the bold headline was a photo. It was a small group of people, dismal expressed women alongside aristocratic gentlemen.</p><p>She was staring at him, gaze transcending through the print.</p><p>He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer.</p><p>That face, the curve of her waist. The way that long hair fell down over her shoulders. Sam grinned.</p><p>"Son of a bitch."</p>
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